


Croix de la Chrysalis

by Raining_Sky_Guy



Category: Bleach
Genre: Canon Divergence, Child Neglect, Gen, Good Aizen Sousuke, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Kurosaki Ichigo-centric, Language, Older Ichigo, Psychological Trauma, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-06
Updated: 2019-03-14
Packaged: 2019-05-03 05:44:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 23,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14562150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raining_Sky_Guy/pseuds/Raining_Sky_Guy
Summary: The Winter War has dragged on for far too long. Their morale is weakening, their strength waning and still Aizen gloats and brags and kills and just won’t stay dead. Hope is low and their situation more than dire, so when they are offered the chance to go back in time to kill the megalomaniac before he gained immortality, Ichigo is the one to take the leap.He was their strongest bet, but nothing would have prepared him for dealing with landing a couple centuries prior their calculated time, for dealing with younger versions of everyone, or for the arduous journey he set himself up for. But when offered the chance to change, Ichigo can’t say no.(Repost from FFN, edited for better quality.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first story I'll be reposting from my FFN account, it was originally published in 27/07/2015 and is going under intense revision for better readability and to make more sense out of it.  
> This has been possible thanks to the amazing MistyPaws(FFN) who has been kind enough to be my beta and critique and has just been an amazing human being all around.
> 
> Enjoy!

 

Soul Society was having a calm day, with no Hollows running rampant, and barely one or two shinigami being dispatched at the time to either the Human World or to Rukongai. The deep blue sky was clear, with no clouds to block out the sun’s rays and there was a gentle wind that ruffled the leaves of a certain little forest by the outskirts of Rukongai.

Out of a sudden, the sky seemed to crack like an egg, as a rift several meters wide formed as if there was something tangible to break. It creaked open like a gaping wound, and from its swirling depths, a figure came crashing down.

With a shrill and ungainly scream of fright, Kurosaki Ichigo was flung from the opening and was dumped on the ground.

“Oof!”

…Or more like, on top of some unlucky bastard.

Disoriented in more ways than one, and doing his best to ignore the cries of ghost pain in his body, Ichigo ignored the wriggling body underneath his as he waited for the world to stop spinning… and for the colors to settle. A faint sentiment of horror and of surprise clung to him, but he didn’t really acknowledge it.

His head, that had started pounding since hours ago, still ached but it was ignored as the young man finally had both the strength and the awareness to crawl off the other.

He was only half-way off when he realized that wherever he was, he was alone and there was someone he didn’t know in too close proximity. He hadn’t finished thinking that when he had already jumped back, Zangetsu drawn and poised as his battle instincts kicked in—seconds after his mind became the smallest bit lucid.

The unlucky bastard was barely just noticing there was a blade pointed at him and shrunk away, his bum still connected to the ground. 

Then the world finally became one in his vision and Ichigo realized he was pointing his sword at a weak little soul. His stance dropped as he muted his reiatsu even further —he was so glad he kept it in tight rein out of habit, he knew he could have obliterated everything on a five kilometer radius otherwise not to mention a regular soul.

But anyway, back to the— _fuck it’s just a kid._

Ichigo didn’t really understand why there even was a kid there  —wherever he was. Mind still fuzzy he stared for a long second, slightly puzzled by the scared confusion on the little soul because as far as he could sense, there weren’t any enemies nearby for once.

There didn’t seem to be any signs of a war either, he slowly began to assimilate, much to his astonishment. He had done it. Kisuke had done it, the fucker.

He had sent him to the past.

Deciding to focus on the little boy to avoid having what probably would be a massive panic attack, Ichigo pulled a face and awkwardly mumbled. “Uh… I-sorry. For falling on you and all that.” Fumbling slightly as he realized he better sheathe his sword because the soul didn’t seem to be getting any better. Wouldn’t it just be awful if the kid died of a heart-attack with him waving the blade around like-

“You’re a shinigami?”

An instinct borne out of hatred, fear and his own Hollow side sparked to life, overriding every other rational thought and Zangetsu was already striking, blade bleeding reiatsu as a protective measure as Ichigo’s signal skyrocketed and his feet pivoted in a way Aizen would get taken by surprise and with some luck he’d die long enough to rip the Hogyoku-

His foot had somehow managed to down the megalomaniac and Zangetsu was inches away from gouging the place where he knew the Hogyoku resided, when the clothes ruffled  showing unmarred skin and the smaller than usual god-wannabe started convulsing as if the strength of his reiatsu was somehow overwhelming-

‘ _Ichigo.’_

The sealed zanpakuto drove itself millimeters away from the crying and frightened face of the _kid_ as Ichigo’s mind caught up to what was happening, the serene voice of Zangetsu steadying him enough to reign in his reiatsu.

Both souls stared at each other; one glossed over with tears and fear behind spectacles, but still somehow curious and the other completely horrified at having almost eviscerated some random kid.

For what seemed like the thousandth time so far, Ichigo’s mind did a double take. Blood roared in his ears as his hands once more itched to move the sword. The kid seemed too alike. No, not really, it must be some play with the light, his mind was too tired and-

 _Impossible_.

Ichigo reeled back, horrified and stunned and too many things to notice, his reiatsu falling down to tolerable levels per Zangetsu’s orders while they all tried to work their minds on exactly what was going on.

First off, it could be a trap. So he would not sheathe his zanpakuto just yet. The kid was panting, as the pressure on him was removed. He just laid there, unable to move and probably frozen in fear.

_There was no guarantee that this was real._

Dark brown eyes gave him a once over, before Ichigo turned away—if he wasn’t Aizen he did not deserve to see such pure loathing on his face. But there was no denying the kid looked like him.

Who he was kidding.

He knew Aizen’s reiatsu in his sleep. Even if this right now was not tainted with hollow or the mumbo-jumbo of the Hogyoku nor was it as strong as he remembered, but it was essentially the same.

Kisuke had told them that he wanted to send Ichigo back to a period before the Hogyoku was complete, but as much of a genius he was, timetravel wasn’t something you could just plan to perfection.

Ichigo had simply decided not to even try to think that it should be impossible. If Kisuke was talking about it, then he probably could and would do it, and it saved Ichigo another headache. Kisuke had looked grim for a moment, because he wasn’t sure how off his rushed calculations were, but as long as it wasn’t in the past ten years, Ichigo was sure he could manage.

He still had never thought he’d be face-to-face with something slightly older than a toddler.

The battle-worn, hardened side of the twenty-five- year-old wanted to kill the bastard right here, right now. This was what he was sent back to do, anyway. It shouldn’t matter that he was sent to a time where Aizen was just a kid. If he needed to be dead, he’d be dead. Ichigo had known, either way that he had been sent back to commit cold-blooded murder… what difference did it make that it was to a child-Aizen?

Actually this might even be for the best, this way they would all avoid any possible repercussion of the many ploys Aizen had built over time. Everything had started once he was a shinigami, so if he never became one…

This was better.

And maybe if, _when_ , he found a way to go back to his time… Karin would still be alive. Karin and Toushiro and Renji and Byakuya and Hiyori and Shinji and—a whole slew of people that had had no reason to die, except for Aizen.

“U-um… who are you?” The little child mumbled, doing his best to push the words through his frozen lips. He was still breathing fast, and barely could hold himself on his elbows but he looked curious of all things.

Ichigo twitched but did not answer. He better get this over with, quick.

Decided and slightly despondent, the iconic figure of the war spun in place and in a burst of Shunpo he was standing behind Aizen, sword raised high to deliver the blow of grace while the small soul was still staring at his afterimage.

How would his sisters hate him if they knew.

With that sorrowful note, the blade descended.

 

 

* * *

 

‘ _Ichigo. It was for the best.’_ Zangetsu was telling him. Ichigo did not know what to think yet. His zanpakuto spirits never seemed to condemn him for anything he did or stopped doing. They could get mad-pissed at him, yes, but they had never —would never— abandon him.

Even if he had just failed everyone.

‘ _Stop beating yourself for it, Aibou. You chose a path, now stick with it.’_ His Zanpakuto’s other persona —who he still sometimes called Shiro for clarity’s sake— spoke up with a wry sort of tone in his voice. Somehow, humor crept back on his voice, just as always— ‘ _you’d want to take that foot outa’ fire though.’_

With a hissed cursed, Ichigo focused back on the small fire he had built for the night and pulled his feet away from the heat. The movement sent the jutting branch that had been hovering over his foot back to the fire with a crackle and a small burst. The light grew momentarily and dark brown eyes were drawn to the lying figure by it.

It still wasn’t too late. He could still get up and throttle him, Ichigo thought half-heartedly, but he knew he wouldn’t do it. Not anymore.

Aizen had crumpled into unconsciousness just as Zangetsu was descending on him and the humane side of Ichigo couldn’t bring himself to murder him. It wouldn’t be the first time he killed in cold blood, but knowing that the kid, no matter how messed up and evil and crazy his future self would be, was just a kid right now, innocent and young...

He should have allowed someone else to go back in time.

Volunteers hadn’t abounded but there still had been other options.

But he was the strongest. This nobody could deny.

Well… at least after Yamamoto Genryuusai had died on them.

In the end, though, it turned out there was no need for the monstrosity of a power known as Ichigo. Both mad scientist’s calculations had spoken of a century… just before the hollowifications. Before everything started to unravel. And since nobody had been sure how strong and unpredictable Aizen would be even then, Ichigo had played the better-be-safe-than-sorry card.

What they seemed to have needed was someone more ruthless than he was. Or at least more ruthless than he was when he was not angry.

His face started aching and he rubbed at it, irritated. Right now his mind was too laden to think of anything properly. He needed time to settle down. Maybe calmer he would be able to kill Aizen properly. He tried not to recoil at the thought, trying to steel himself to the possibility. But right now, he had time. Something that had been scarce in his present. Between trying not to die and trying to kill Aizen that was. Which actually made his current dilemma all the more ludicrous.

This Aizen-in-diapers could never run away from him.

Images arose in his mind that had the battle veteran standing up in a flurry of movement. He just kept getting more stupid. He sheathed the sword he had drawn without any conscious thought and instead extended his arm, gathering reiatsu on it as he tried to remember the words. He didn’t know this Aizen— he had no clue at which point he learned to be the manipulative jerk he had been known to be.

Who was to say this boy right now wasn’t pulling wool over his eyes?

Ichigo started chanting under his breath, assessing the lying figure.  Not even in the academy. No way to materialize his Zanpakuto either. Not that Kyoka Suigetsu would have any effect on him anyway. Not anymore.

His hand started glowing as the specific kidou Kisuke had insisted he learnt before his trip crackled to life. It hadn’t exploded on him, so he assumed he had gotten it right for once. He stared at the crackling kanji dancing on his palm, making sure it matched Kisuke’s description —if it was unstable it might still blow up.

Just as he was thinking that, the character began glowing even brighter and in one blinding burst of light, the spell went off, the incomplete kidou sucking his reiatsu and exploding in his hands.

Ichigo cursed under his breath, because _of course_ it had blown up and of course Kisuke had failed to mention that despite it being a seal, it could explode like a badly cast shakkahou. His hands had sustained some severe burning, but his regeneration was already working on it. Knowing he didn’t really have any other option, Ichigo began casting it again, being careful of enunciating everything perfectly and not allowing much of his reiatsu through and slowly but surely the same character stared up at him.

The young man strode for the limp figure of baby Aizen, lowering the back of his makeshift shirt and pressed his open palm between his shoulder blades. The boy whimpered and his skin seemed to burn,  but did not wake and when Ichigo removed his hand there was a seal embed in the other’s skin.

There. Now the kid had no way of hiding away from him.

He blinked in surprise at the sizable amount of reiatsu that little thing had required. It was even more than what had been robbed when he had failed that first time. Not enough to even slow him down a fraction, but it still was surprising. Or rather…

Ichigo blinked, his now-usual extra sense picking up something at the back of his mind, like he felt his dual Zanpakuto, but… dormant?

The battle veteran sighed tiredly, finding that annoying, even more so because Kisuke had _also_ failed to  mention the effect it would have on him. Ichigo cracked his neck, as he did his best to wrap his mind around that sensation and get used to it.

His eyes stayed trained on the small child  as he moved around with the silence of the night itself, practicing cheap katas just to move around. As soon as his mind was otherwise engaged, the nagging feeling of having something stuck to his brain faded.

Ichigo then closed his eyes and focused on the little extra baggage in his mind and sure enough, it pointed Aizen’s way. The seal worked alright.

 _‘Ichigo. You should rest. Whatever it is you decide to do, can be decided in the morning. As you yourself stated, we have time now._ ’ Zangetsu then decided to cut in and suddenly, Ichigo could feel the years weighing on his shoulders.

 _‘We’ll keep watch. Now get a nap, ya’ baby._ ’ Shiro quipped in. The vizard snorted but after one last glance to the slumbering child, the warrior slowly made his way towards a tree branch wide enough for him, and at a perfect position to keep watch over the boy. His body was still sore, and his skin still prickled and his mind was still abuzz and overloaded by everything that had been going on, but little by little, his decade-old fatigue returned as it did every night and he slowly succumbed to sleep. He did not fully relax, he had long since lost the habit of doing so, but he left his safety in the hands of Zangetsu.

 

* * *

Ichigo awoke without any prompting at the crack of dawn. He had just dozed off, instead of actually slept, but it still took him a moment to understand where he was, and what he was doing.  Cold sweat dotted his forehead by the time he pulled himself together to stare at his target in silence as the hours rolled by and the kid slowly returned from the land of dreams

Ichigo awoke without any prompting at the crack of dawn, having sensed a flicker of reiatsu even before Zangetsu began rousing him. He had just dozed off, instead of actually sleeping, but it still took him a moment to understand where he was, and what he was doing.  Cold sweat dotted his forehead by the time he pulled himself together and by the then flicker was almost gone.

It was obvious enough it belonged to a shinigami.

Was it in passing? Were they being watched?

His eyes strayed to the sleeping target on the ground. Was it a trap?

Before Ichigo could decide whether he should pursue the subdued signal, whoever it was simply sped away, no lingering presence or incantation in their wake. He waited, shoulders tense until the sky turned a pale blue, before he even thought about relaxing.

Aizen-in-diapers drew his attention again as he stirred and yawned loudly as he returned to the land of the living, blinking all around him in dazed confusion. Despite Ichigo’s inner nickname for him, the   old, baby fat rounding up his cheeks slightly, but since he was a soul, he could already be a few decades older than Ichigo himself.  He looked in perfect health and his gaze was clear and curious of the world around him. Ichigo really appreciated (even if it took him a while to realize) that the boy’s shaggy brown hair was not slicked back and instead fell partly on his face. Every single thing that differentiated him from the maniac overlord was deeply appreciated.

The boy currently being scrutinized got up and grabbed the old, thick-framed glasses by his side as he looked at the ashes of last night’s fire. It was already late morning and a long while since Ichigo himself had woken up, eyes immediately seeking his target.

Ichigo’s hand tightened on Zangetsu. He could still do it.

‘ _Ya don’t have ta._ ’ Shiro suddenly spoke up, startling his wielder. His Quincy counterpart was also listening closely, almost expectantly. ‘ _There should be ‘nother way ta prevent all this kaput.’_

Aizen’s stomach grumbled from down there and Ichigo looked down in time to see the boy clutching at his own belly in surprise, before he started actually looking around, probably for food.

“D’you suppose I can?” He asked to his spirits, the full meaning conveyed without anything more. He felt unsure. Not killing Aizen was failing everyone he knew. Not killing him was refusing to avenge his sister and friends. Not killing him meant that far in the future, there would still be a hardened and heartbroken Yuzu taking up the bow to avenge her dead sister while Ichigo was stuck on the frontlines. Not killing him was returning to see her remaining sister broken after her first dozen kills and knowing he had failed his family.

 _‘Not quite_ ,’ Zangetsu said, answering his dark thoughts, eager to take his wielder’s mind off such matters. Zangetsu too had been devastated then. It had been too abrupt of a development and Yuzu had almost not made it when her meager, awakened Quincy powers fought with her latent shinigami blood. Ichigo had discovered even zanpakutos could feel suicidal. ‘ _Not doing anything certainly will amount to the future we come from. But killing Aizen is not the only way to change things_.’

That would mean preventing Aizen from becoming evil.

Was it possible?

Was he willing to try?

Ichigo finally jumped down, resolve still half-assed, making his presence known. As the boy started at the sound and promptly fell on his butt upon spotting him, Ichigo consoled himself.

If anything happened, he could always kill him.

 

* * *

“Why are you giving me food?” Aizen-in-diapers asked as he nibbled at the roasted fish in his hands. Several meters away from him, Ichigo crouched, tense.

“Weren’t you hungry? Why are you complaining?” He replied with the light bad mood he had been so well known for in his teenage years. Or at least he tried to keep it like that. The little buzz of Aizen’s presence in his mind did not help at all.

“But weren’t you here to kill me?”

The boy looked so innocent and carefree while saying it that it took Ichigo off guard and he actually had to double-check he had heard correctly.

He’d love to play the fool and deny ever thinking about it, but he needed to explain why he had drawn his blade on the boy. Something that might work to his advantage was the fact that it was not likely Aizen-in-diapers really understood what death and killing really meant. He pretended his muscles were not frozen stiff as he leaned forward. “Of course I’m not. You just startled me the other day.  I might’ve drawn my blade but it’s not like I cut you with it.” Never had the lies flowed easier on his lips, still trying to figure out who this kid actually was, and how real the image presented was.

“Oh, I’m… I’m sorry for startling you, shinigami-san.” The child said, wide eyes and looking chastised. “But it wasn’t on purpose.”

“Yeah well, I say the same thing to you.” Ichigo replied, almost tonelessly. He smiled sardonically as he threw out, just for the kicks (to feed that little part of him that relished in combat and blood). “Why was your first thought that I’d be killing you though?”

The kid blinked innocent brown eyes at him, if Ichigo hadn’t been pouring all of his attention on him he’d probably miss the small hunch, the flicker of fear in his eyes. He pushed his glasses up as he answered. “...It happens. It has happened twice since I’ve been alive. Even though I don’t think it should be that common.” The brunet boy paused as he cocked his head in thought. “But they don’t kill them here. They take them away to Seireitei.”

The former substitute shinigami blinked in confusion. He opened his mouth to ask, but promptly closed it. What if the other was lying? What would he gain from that?

Make a (supposed) shinigami officer suspicious of his own organization? Suspicious enough to be willing to betray it? To make undercover work for Aizen, to pledge loyalty to whatever fucked-up-ideology suited him best?

He couldn’t be sure. He could never be sure with Aizen. He had no clue when exactly he became who Ichigo knew. Identifying this would be key to Ichigo’s decisions.

If he was already off the deep end, he’d better end his life now and start looking for a way back to his time.

“What do they do to them, shinigami-san? And what will you do to me?” Aizen-in-diapers (because he simply could not call him ‘Aizen’ without feeling murderous) continued asking, still curious rather than frightened.

As Ichigo was pondering on his words, what would be safe to say in case this was the manipulative bastard he knew when he was mentally kicked, courtesy of the white Zangetsu.

_‘Stop thinkin’ yaself in circles. Don’t say anythin’ stupid, but answer the kid already.’_

“I don’t know about any others.” Ichigo relented, carefully. He eyed the attentiveness of the other and wondered if it was an act. “But I was out here taking a stroll, nothing serious.” He half-lied.

“Did you knock me out?”

“Uh, no. You fell unconscious on your own.” Ichigo answered, even if he knew it might be partially his fault. No need for details.

Aizen-in-diapers hummed in thought. He then raised his head again and asked, with the curiosity any children could exhibit. “What is your name, shinigami-san?”

Once more, Ichigo mentally reeled back, his mind going a mile per second trying to guess any ulterior motive behind the question and knowing that _his_ particular surname was a big giveaway.

The name Shiba was recognized in all four corners of Soul Society after all.

And saying Kurosaki might arise some problems in the future. Given his luck, it was almost certain.

“…Ichigo. Just Ichigo.” He grumbled under his breath, having reached a decision so fast the other didn’t even notice a pause.

The boy arched an eyebrow at him. “Why do you have such a girly name?”

A vein visibly popped up on his forehead. “Oi, oi, Mr. Certified Genius, try again.” He mentally winced at the puzzled expression on the other and it was Shiro who supplied him an answer. “Don’t go getting on a high horse, kiddo. I mean it as an insult.”

The brown-haired boy looked confused. “How would ‘genius’ ever be used as an insult?”

“When you meet very smart people who make very stupid decisions.” Ichigo supplied, picturing himself throttling Kisuke for the thousandth time. He clicked his tongue when the other didn’t seem to be thinking very hard. He was not a strawberry goddammit! “My name means-“

“’One who protects.’ Right?” The brunet exclaimed eagerly enough, jutting out a finger to the air. Ichigo nodded curtly, somewhat relieved that it was hard to correlate this child to the overlord yet very creeped out this was the baby that would make the universe itself collapse. “It’s a nice name. Ah-! I’m Aizen Sousuke. Nice to meet you, Ichigo-san.”

He couldn’t quite hide the cringe this time.

He swore in his mind at the hurt expression of his future-nemesis.

“I’m sorry. I too think it’s weird calling you by name.” The boy said, looking at the floor — _fucking fidgeting._ “But you didn’t give me a surname.”

That was only half the reason Ichigo had physically recoiled, but it also was the easiest way to explain his reaction. “Don’t have any. Sorry kid. I just- It’s been a while since I’ve met a stranger.”

What kind of face would he make if he said he was a Shiba?

Ichigo’s thought process reached a sudden halt.

Fucking hell, what was the _point_ in hiding his surname if he looked just like the reincarnation of a certain Shiba Kaien!? Even if the other probably hadn’t been born yet they would reach a point in time when Aizen could _and would_ connect the points. Once more, before he could start panicking it was Shiro who whacked him into gear again.

_‘Kaien did not have a kidou sword lodged on his skull. Nor a regular sword impaled on the face. I woulda said somethin’ if ya didn’t look like a three-year-old played with a knife on your face.’_

Ichigo did not appreciate the mental image, but he calmed down nonetheless. He just hoped the ragged crisscrossed marks on the center of his face were enough to mask his parentage… Though coupled with the claw marks of an especially lucky hollow that forever tilted his mouth downwards and his several-times broken nose _and_ the ever present dark rings under his eyes…

Yeah, he supposed he didn’t look like his perfect-faced cousin at all.

“I’ll call you Shinigami-san, then.” Aizen-in-diapers spoke up in what must have been a very awkward silence. Perhaps a night hadn’t been enough time to settle his mind. But to be honest, Ichigo doubted a century would be enough time anyway.

“Sorry, kid.” Ichigo replied, with what he hoped was an apologetic smile, not knowing what else to do. By the subsequent reaction he supposed he hadn’t done it any good, but it didn’t really matter. He wasn’t here to coddle anyone.

But still, he eased his marred and ever scary features into something more neutral, preparing himself for having a civil conversation with the Aizen-lookalike. If he needed to determinate Aizen’s crazy levels, he’d need to hear him out. For that, the kid needed to be used to him and for _that,_ well, introductions were in order.

“Let’s start again. I’m Ichigo, a shinigami on temporal leave of duty. Nice meeting you, kid.”

“Haha, you’re so strange! Likewise, Shinigami-san!” A smile spread on blasphemously innocent lips. And even as Ichigo managed to maintain his calm demeanor, inside both of Zangetsu raised their guards, ready for anything as Ichigo’s hand leisurely came to rest upon the hilt of his blade.

Aizen-in-diapers then proceeded to roast the last two fishes Ichigo had caught for him before offering one to him. He grinned at him across the fire, pushed up his frayed glasses and continued eating in blissful ignorance.

Dark and inscrutable, Ichigo’s eyes flashed gold as he kept track of his nemesis’ every move.

If there was the smallest incongruence, he swore.

Even the tiniest fact that didn’t match or the smallest cruelty perceived…

He’d personally ram his sword through the infant’s chest.

Either way, he wouldn’t fail. He wouldn’t fail his family again.

And nothing else mattered.

 

To be continued


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Betaed by: [MistyPaws](https://www.fanfiction.net/u/4791202/MistyPaws)

 

He really was in the past.

 

Fucking Kisuke had really done it. He had sent Ichigo back.

 

Ichigo hadn’t had the time or the presence of mind to properly understand the absolute insanity Kisuke had pulled once more. All the technical babble had flown over his head, half because it was too absurd for Ichigo to believe even if it was him talking, and half because he had been so grievously injured and mentally exhausted.

Nobody had been in the right frame of mind.

Losing the war wasn’t something they had accounted for, or had ever thought would happen.

Ichigo sighed. It was vertiginous remembering the despair, the hopelessness and the pain from just yesterday and then seeing the vast expanse of Soul Society, untouched by war or chaos.

He was in the past. And pretty fucking far back if he could use Aizen-in-diaper’s current age as measure.

He had no idea how far back he was, and he was clueless as to exactly how old his enemies or his comrades were— was Kisuke older than Aizen, for starters? Would he be able to find any of his future-friends in this time?

Ichigo scowled at nothing.

He would get back, even if just to kick Kisuke into the next  _ century _ .

Ichigo had never been the type to crap out plans out of thin air, but he had been known for taking a situation and forcing his way through it no matter how insane it seemed at first.

If he had gotten out of Hell through sheer will alone, then surely he’d find a way to go back to his time once his mission was finished.

It was not like his mission would be ending any time soon. Figuring out how to get back certainly would be a problem, but as he stared at the small speck in the distance that he knew to be Seireitei, he decided it wasn't particularly urgent.

He’d find his way back. Kisuke would never have suggested this outrageous plan if he didn’t think Ichigo could come back. He had come a long way from the secretive bastard he had met back when he was fifteen after all. Not to mention the fervient promise the battered former-shopkeeper had whispered to him, voice like steel and eyes like a storm.

“ _ Go back…..I swear you will…” _

For some reason he couldn’t remember it completely.

For some reason it hurt. 

It’s not like it would be of any use anyway. Although he could (and will) go and dump the promise on his current, younger self.

Because that’s what he had to do, right?

If Kisuke had been the only one to be able to bring up time travel and  _ succeed _ , then only Kisuke would know how to send him back.

Even as he tried to think how would he possibly find the current Kisuke, he was also worrying if he’d be old and knowledgeable enough to rebuild the time travel thingy for him to go back to his time.

Kisuke was stupidly smart but there’s no way it would just be that easy. Nothing in his life had ever been.

Although he’d rather worry about that apparently unsolvable problem than deal with the currently more pressing one—the curious gaze of Aizen on him.

 

“Ne, Shinigami-san, aren’t you bored?” The little boy perched at his side said, moving his arms back and forth with excitement.

Once more, the future evil overlord flinched back at whatever expression Ichigo was wearing when he turned to look at him. The latent curiosity in the kid’s face gave way to what one could consider to be fear, and Ichigo knew he  _ should  _ care.

But really, he wanted nothing to do with him.

He didn’t want to help the man that had murdered so many of his friends.

He’d prefer…

What did he prefer, actually?

If he had preferred killing him, then he just should have done that to begin with. It would be stupid to do things half-assedly.

The eight-year-old-looking soul looked down, folding into himself but still not trying to leave. Why was that? Ichigo wouldn’t have let him either way but wouldn’t a kid want to get away from someone like Ichigo, normally?

Neither his appearance nor his behavior was reassuring for anyone that hadn’t fought in a war after all. Not that it was different with people that  _ had  _ been in a war.

Ichigo’s knuckles cracked loudly in the following silence, the urge to grab his blade almost overpowering. He refrained as best as he could, but the tension he couldn’t help but exude made the tiny boy at his side cower and curl into himself even more.

But even with those evident signs of fear, the kid broke the silence before Ichigo could zone out again.

 

“Ne, Shinigami-san, what are you going to do?” The kid, for some godforsaken reason decided to continue asking, peering at him from under his bangs. Ichigo didn’t know why he was asking anything at all.

“I don’t know.” The war veteran answered, short and abrupt, every fiber of his being battling with him to not answer at all— everything he said could be potentially harmful, could help device another trap for his friends, like-

“Are you feeling alright?” Profane brown eyes peered at him with concern. They began to widen, fear taking over his face as he slowly shifted his eyes to the right. “S-Shinigami-san?”

Ichigo stilled his hand, Zangetsu drawn and poised. He blinked. He regained himself as he straightened up, sword swinging downwards at his side. “I’mma train.” He finally said with all tranquility. A small, distorted part of himself felt good at being able to frighten Aizen like this. He hated feeling so cathartic, but he had long since stopped caring so much. Everything hurt less so it was alright.

Half-joking and distantly amused, he executed a lazy swing—fast for untrained eyes— , blade ringing to a stop millimeters away from his face. He had to suppress the urge to let the sword continue on its path. “Say, do I scare you?”

He had tried to joke, but unbeknownst to the world savior, the edge of lethality he rarely noticed slipped onto his voice, his eyes flashing golden as his breathing hitched ever so slightly, pupils dilating. His hatred wasn’t all that visible—but he looked like a veritable heartless demon. Tears started to form, unwanted and annoying, on the corner of Aizen’s eyes as he tried to stutter out an answer.

Once more, Ichigo stopped for whatever reason it was. He stopped, lowering his blade and turned away sharply. “Don’t get in my way during training then.” He said in stilled tones, shoulders taut before he strode away.

He was fully aware of the kneeling mess behind him.

 

* * *

Ichigo was still thinking as he swung Zangetsu about. What should he do?

The orange-haired shinigami spun in place and struck the air in front of him as if ramming his sword through an enemy trying to sneak up on him for the thousandth time. Out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of a mop of brown. Baby Aizen was still there.

Ichigo couldn’t quite make out why.

He found it curious more than anything though.

 

He had moved away from the nervous wreck to practice by himself, not so much because he needed to train, but he needed to do something to keep busy and preferably moving. These familiar, repetitive movements allowed his mind to empty of all thought. more focused on the invisible battle he had conjured up, dodging and killing faceless opponents without much effort. He wasn’t distracted enough, however, to miss the gradual approach of the signal lodged in his brain that informed him that he had earned a quiet viewer.

Out of the corner of his eyes he could see the crouching boy, staring at him with avid eyes, not quite lacking in fear.

Why?

At least he didn’t speak. Ichigo sighed as his thoughtless state of mind disappeared in the presence of the suspicious boy. If he wasn’t going to relax, then at least he could use this time to sort out what he would do with all the messes he was in.

Not much had changed from the initial plan, really. He had been sent back to change the future. And Ichigo had apparently decided to try his hand at changing Aizen instead of killing him. And to do that, he’d need to be kinder. He’d need to treat him like an actual kid. Like a little broth-

Involuntarily his weapon-arm jerked down, sinking Zangetsu deep in the ground as Ichigo lost grasp of just about everything.

It was absolutely impossible for him to put  _ fucking Aizen  _ right there next to Yuzu and-

His reiatsu control slipped, which resulted in a momentarily explosion of raw power—being reigned in almost immediately by both of his swords.

‘ _ Ichigo…’ _

Neither of them could find any words. The disgust reached his very soul. It was simply impossible. His anger skyrocketed as if replacing his reigned-in reiatsu. He should kill Aizen. He should kill Aizen. He should kill Aizen right there, right now. He should-

“Shinigami-san, you’re bleeding!”

Ichigo turned around, practically oozing  _ hollow _ , and something sent his mind askew as a little brat with brown hair, with thick, nearly-broken glasses, with dark rings under his eyes, and with such earnest worry as he stumbled a few steps forward, still-chubby fingers pointing at his swordhand. 

Taken by the earnestness, ochre eyes looked at his hand. There was blood. His hand had slipped. Stupid really. If he willed it, it would regenerate anyway. It wasn’t deep after all. Not that the other could know. What a bother. Too much blood for something so inane.

In short, stumpy thoughts, Ichigo’s mind managed to get a leash on his emotions.

Since when did he thought that he should kill?

Watery amethyst eyes stared at him from his mind’s eye.

“ _ Why do you only think in killing?” _

 

* * *

Like always, those words effectively made his blood run cold. His head cleared as if a bucket of ice had been dumped onto him and it took all his strength not to double over.

_ “What has happened to you?” _

Teeth clenched and eyes screwed shut. His scars pulsed in pain. The memory stopped.

He would not think of her.

 

* * *

Why was it, that it was the most selfish thoughts that led his actions?

Ichigo despaired as he roasted some more fish over the fire. Night had come and Aizen in diapers had gotten hungry again.

After that failed training session, Ichigo had absconded for the better part of the day and when he had returned, the kid had been curled up into a ball, barely looking at him even when called. He had obeyed him and thanked him for the food when all Ichigo could think of doing was catching dinner for them, but he had stayed on his same spot, as if he had been chastised or as if he had had done something wrong. But Ichigo knew he hadn’t. Besides existing that was.

He had felt an apology in the tip of his tongue several times but he really couldn’t bring himself to care.

 

He hadn’t said a word after scaring the kid, but the kid had not left.

Ichigo looked at his own meal in silence.

Why?

“Don’t you have a home to go to?”

Fucking Aizen looked at him with a speck of fear, jumping at the sudden question. He fiddled with the food, getting grease all over his hands.

“Not really.” He mumbled in a tiny voice, years, decades of solitude and longing casting shadows on his face. 

Ichigo nodded with his head and the conversation dwindled into another silence.

He should do things right though. Even if he really didn’t care.

 

“So hey, I’ll be staying here for a long while. I suppose you can stay if you want to.”

When he got a hesitant smile in return, Ichigo felt like crying.

 

* * *

The next morning Ichigo sent the boy away so he could train. It was sort of counterproductive since Ichigo had invited him to stay with him in the first place,  but he decided not to dwell on it as he swung up and down.

It was not like it mattered much because not long after,  he saw the child watching him from a distance, just like last time.

Ichigo kept wondering if it all was just a ploy, if he was just playing into this child’s hands, as he learned about Ichigo’s skills, but he figured that basic up and down swings wouldn’t give up any kind of valuable information.

His face ached. 

As if that was a cue, Ichigo sheathed his sword, not having even broken a sweat. He looked back at Seireitei. He should be getting a hang of what time period it was as soon as possible. He remembered that Aizen had been a lieutenant already when the Vizards were attacked. And Shinji had already been a captain by then. Hiyori a lieutenant under Urahara. It had taken only a moment to remember that Aizen was younger than the scientist, but it still did nothing for the unknown age gap  between them. And then it arose the problem that, if Kisuke was way younger than either of them had expected… would he know how to build the time machine again?

Ichigo had adamantly refused to carry any sort of blueprints in his (rightful) paranoia of them falling in the overlord’s hands. He just had a single line of written symbols that were a bit of Kidou yet not quite engraved in his mind. He’d have to make do with just that.

A branch broke under the pressure of a tiny foot and Ichigo spun around on instinct.

“What?” He demanded, guard raised as if he were facing a terrible opponent. The little child in front of him tried his best not to flinch away.

“Um,” he began, with a tiny voice. “Are you done?”

“Why?”

“Do you want to come with me to the river?”

Ambush. It’s an ambush, rang in his mind despite him being mostly sure that was sheer nonsense.

“Later.” He managed to grit out.

Even like that, baby Aizen smiled brightly.

 

* * *

Ichigo felt Zangetsu doing his best to soothe his nerves as the world saviour sat at the shadow of a tree, overlooking a river. In said river, with the water reaching up to his waist, the current being practically nonexistent in this widened section of the stream, Aizen-in-diapers continued to fail time and time again to catch any fish for his dinner.

If it was unintentional or not, it was hard to guess.

“You need to wait for the fish to get close to you and then you have to be quick.” Ichigo droned in a toneless voice, eyes looking at one point just beside the kid. His instructions were lacking and probably made no sense to the kid, but Ichigo didn’t feel like putting in any sort of effort.

He might be the least inspired teacher ever, but he was having a hard time reigning in the thought that what he was doing was going to keep Aizen alive.

His train of thought was broken however, when Aizen-in-diapers fucking tripped over nothing and landed face first on the water.

Ichigo outright gaped at the scene, his mind unable to correlate the events that had just happened.

Two barks of laughter escaped incredulous lips.

They tasted bitter, they rang hollow, and they hurt his chest, but he still found a rare sense of wonder at being able to laugh again.

In the midst of a catharsis, Ichigo skidded down to the water edge and waited for the boy to right himself before throwing a live fish at him. The brunet stumbled with the catch before the animal slipped his fingers and plunged back into the stream.

“Keep it up. I’ll be back in a while.” Ichigo mumbled, turning around. “Remember how you caught the fish I threw at you. When I’m back you better have caught at least one.”

With that he left, because dammit he needed to break something or he’d end up crying.

 

* * *

Ichigo was too busy gutting the fish he held in his hands to notice what must be the weirdest face Aizen could have made. The kid looked just a normal kid, absolutely repulsed by Ichigo’s actions…. Or so Ichigo was telling himself.

With morbid curiosity, Ichigo stopped cleaning the fish and in one motion he had beheaded the fish and tossed the remains to the child. Aizen-in-diapers then recoiled from it, before he obviously tried to do his best not to appear as repulsed. Ichigo’s hands resumed their motions, trying not to let another bark of laughter out.

This was ridiculous.

The man who had killed indiscriminately, who had been swallowed in Hell and not even flinched after it, who had beheaded Toushiro in a fashion not much unlike-

Ichigo wanted to be sick.

He was such an idiot, really. Reminiscing about the dead was never healthy to begin with. Thinking about the dead while their murderer-to-be was in front of him was just… He should stop. He should only remember the fact that what he was doing would erase it. Would erase an evil Aizen in the future. Would prevent the deaths, would… would change so many things.

Ichigo handed the bloody fish to the kid along with Baby Aizen’s knife. “Don’t be such a baby. It’s almost done, take it and finish your own dinner.”

As he stared at the squeamish boy trying not to gag at the raw meat in his hands, barely able to avoid slicing his fingers with the knife, Ichigo couldn’t help but sigh, wearily, tiredly.

The World Savior almost wished Aizen-in-diapers had never grown out of his horror of minced meat. Of dead eyes.  Of fresh blood.

So many things would have been different…

Now Ichigo would make sure they changed, by whichever means necessary.

 

* * *

At last, overburdened again, Ichigo left Aizen-in-diapers alone to do a quick perimeter check. This forest in which he had landed was just outside Rukongai’s outer borders. It had struck him as odd, but it wasn’t like he could get any more suspicious at this point.

He also had not sensed another presence nearby. The child lived alone in the forest. Ichigo had to wonder why.

He had tried to sweep the area for cameras, bugs, even signs of a scuffle or an experiment but Ichigo had been unable to find anything at all.

Ichigo raised a hand to rub at his face. This was too unnerving. There was surely something he was missing. There had to be.

There was just no way Aizen was just a kid.

This time, the carrot head started searching with his eyes closed, instead falling into a stance and concentrated on his other senses. As usual, baby Aizen’s figure shot up almost immediately, the seal making it unable to miss him. Ichigo did his best to ignore the blaring signal and instead focused on his surroundings.

He breathed in, out and-

He immediately launched himself into the air without a second thought. He careened to a stop kilometers away from where he had started, as he tried to make sense of what that had been about.

Aizen’s presence was  _ everywhere. _

Ichigo had a fair amount of memories and scars and deaths after feeling something like this, so the reaction had been instinctual.

But what did it mean?

_ ´He lives here. That’s the most sensible answer. He really doesn’t stray away from that area much. And for the reiatsu to be this strong all around, he must have picked out this place a long time ago.’ _

_ “ _ But for what purpose?” Ichigo asked under his breath as his Quincy blade rationalized the event.

‘ _ I would not know. I apologize.’ _

_ “ _ S fine. Whatever it is… there’s just no way we would die by any sort of trap by this fucking toddler.”

It had been a long time since Ichigo himself noticed how distorted his words were.  How his actions bespoke of a readiness for fight or flight, how his words always danced over the topic of a trap. How his mind was forever caught in an endless battlefield.

Zangetsu somehow hoped he never noticed. If the war would not end, at least don’t let Ichigo know of it.

But he was right. His body was comparable to a nuclear reactor, teeming with power. Barely enough to be a match for the overlord.

Barely.

He should focus.

He should be getting back already. Keep a closer eye on Aizen— Aizen in diapers. The child was way too curious, he would surely notice he wasn’t there soon enough. The less he suspected, the better.

 

* * *

Ichigo was once again pondering about the day events looking over the sleeping baby overlord, and wondering if helping Aizen stay alive would be the proper thing to do. He felt a visceral repugnance at the thought of caring for the madman.  Would he need to help the other learn how to earn food for himself? To protect him from adversity?

If Aizen was not taught anything…was there any chance he’d die on his own?

‘ _ Coward.’ _

Ichigo startled at hearing the real Zangetsu speaking. That fear of disappointing rose in his mind like bile. He scrambled uselessly for words as he registered the pain his sword was feeling.

Zangetsu was sombre, quiet and deadly like on the battlefield. His eyes like blazing ambers burned right through him. ‘ _ Ya’ decided not ta kill him,  _ Ichigo _.’  _ He accused him. ‘ _ Ya’ decided to change the course of destiny. Ya’ decided ta’ stay yer hand and take the responsibility. _

_ ‘Don’t ya fucking give up half-way. _

Don’t betray them.

Don’t fail them.

Not again.

Ichigo hunched over himself, overtaken by a higher emotion.

Never again.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally I have time to update this ffs. It's finally moving along, what do you think?


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta'ed by MistyPaws!

He had caught a second fish. 

Trepidation crawled up Ichigo’s spine as the boy sauntered over to the crouched hybrid, then proudly showcased his captured prey. Ichigo was trying not to let his emotions show on his face, muscles tensing in fear. That had been too quick. 

Just the other day, the boy had been tripping and falling and missing every single creature that swam between his legs. And now he had already captured a decently-sized trout.

(A voice inside his mind whispered that this was something Aizen would do, he would make himself look smarter, stronger, even in his illusions.)

But it was fully plausible that Aizen-in-diapers was a quick learner. Catching his second fish four days after Ichigo had taught him… it wasn’t wholly impossible. Aizen-in-diapers had had to be a little smart as to not die of hunger on his own. It just augmented the creepy factor by a dozen. The World Savior once more found it hard to look back to an innocent face without cringing. He had gutted the fish again and started a cooking fire for the brat, thinking that if he kept his hands occupied he wouldn’t really have time to worry unnecessarily. 

Was this okay?

A quick learner suited Ichigo better in the long run. But what if he learned too much too quick. What if this whole show was a complicated ploy to capture Ichigo? And…

The fear that hadn’t quite materialized into a conscious thought surfaced at last.

What if he had never gone back? What if he had simply been trapped in a fucking mental illusion by Aizen?

Was the madman laughing as Ichigo did stupid monkey tricks, flailing in the air?

Would he even notice should Aizen ram a sword through his chest— just as he imagined himself doing it to the baby version right in front of him?

He had no way of knowing.

A small shift caught his attention and he noticed a child looking at him with some confusion, a frown upon bright brown eyes.

“Hang on- I forgot something…” He heard himself say. There was a tiny note of dismay in his voice, he noted. He didn’t like it, is all he could think of, before he was gone.

 

* * *

 

Ichigo next came to as he groped everything around him like a blind man. The bark of the trees, the air between them, the dark and rich forest soil, dotted with dead leaves. It all felt real…

As real as any illusion of Aizen’s.

‘ _ This is nonsense, Ichigo. You have long since become immune to Aizen’s mind play. There’s no way-‘ _

“The Soul King was also supposed to be immune to that bastard!” Ichigo cut his spirit off with a hushed shout, voice tight with distress.

There was silence.

Vision decreasing to a tunnel view, the twenty-five-year old soul started having a panic attack. How to know? How to _ know? _

The sights had always looked real. The smells. What he heard. All his senses had been befuddled or obfuscated before he overcame that with raw power. But what if Aizen had managed to outpower him again?

_ There was just no way. _

Ichigo, clenched his teeth, furious as he punched whatever he had in front of him— a tree. The thing shook as a crater formed at the base, where Ichigo had hit it, but remained standing. A small smarting of pain registered on his mind.

Even pain could be fake.

“ _ He can even make you feel pain.”  _ As if this wasn’t a bad enough time to be reminiscing about dead people.  For some reason, Toushiro had always been the most sensitive to Kyoka Suigetsu, either in its sword form or the one fused with its wielder. The one who had suffered through it the most. Ironically enough this ended up making Hitsugaya learn how to recognize it. “ _ But pain in an illusion is different. It hurts, but in your head. It’s easier with a severed leg. You see the blood, you feel the pain and you’re ready to pass out, but you close your eyes one second and it’s no longer your leg that’s in pain.” _

Ichigo eagerly slammed his fist back into the tree and this time it toppled. He frowned because the pain had been instantaneous. He couldn’t gauge anything. The whirlwind that is his mind lulls for a second.

Passively, he drew his sword again. 

And before Zangetsu could try and curse him out, the blade descended on his forearm, fast and lethal. Ichigo tried for a small nick, enough to draw blood.

The cut hurt.

It was real. 

The man sighed in relief, mind not registering the fact that his hand had slipped and the cut went a bit deeper than would be healthy. That the blood flowing freely down his hand was too much for a simple cut.

Ichigo willed it to regenerate without a second glance at the dripping bloody mess he had caused on himself. He easily glossed over his swords’ pain, as it was just another murmur in the frantic sea that always tried to drown him in anguish.

The cut disappeared from his arm, but it remained like a glowing beacon on Zangetsu’s arm. 

The Quincy spirit cradled his injured arm to his chest, as he kept quiet. Zangetsu did the same. Ichigo did not need to know.

Hopefully it would not happen again.

(And yet, they all had grown to avoid hoping, as it always led to disappointment.)

 

* * *

 

Ichigo ended up returning to the kid, unsure if it was inertia that drove him back so soon, or some twisted sense of responsibility.

The kid looked up from his meal at his arrival, looking as messy and sloppy as he always did when he ate. The veteran pulled a face before he sat across the child in silence. He stared at the fire as he kept Aizen in his rearview.

“Shinigami-san?”

“What?”

“Where were you? You suddenly disappeared again…”

Ichigo almost growled in anger. It was an unconscious reflex that fortunately did not surface, but still the scowl on his scar-laden face deepened. “Why’d you ask?”

“…I was worried-“

“Well, I don’t think you need to know.” He managed to hash out, hackles rising in a tiresome loop. But when the kid hunched over himself once more, the earlier words of his sword’s spirit rang again in his mind. Those painful words were soon to become his mantra. 

“Sorry,” he muttered with a sigh, forcing the words through his mouth. “ I  just went to get some fresh air.”

For every time he had to carve a bloody smile on his lips and make Aizen feel comfortable, he would remember.

Everything he was doing, was to make a better future.

 

* * *

 

The next morning Ichigo was sure he was just being a little paranoid bitch as he stared dumbstruck at the sight of baby-fucking-Aizen hanging by his ankle, flailing chubby arms in panic as he had gotten himself caught in his  _ own fucking trap.  _ A not-so-small part of him had been sad the kid was smart enough to use his arms to prevent the initial recoil that would have broken his neck as the trap was designed to do. But mostly he couldn’t really understand…

“You set it up five seconds ago.” He murmured, as another painful bubble of laughter threatened to escape his chest. The kid had stopped moving like a fish and hid his face with his arms in sheer embarrassment. “How’d you even get in this situation?”

“…” Aizen-in-Diapers mumbled incoherently, voice muffled with his arms tight around his face apparently knowing how ridiculous this scenario was.

“At least now we know the rope is strong.” Ichigo supplied wholly unhelpful. This apparently did not do well to the kid, who started flailing about again and demanding to be set down. Ichigo stared at him, unimpressed before he laid a hand on his sheath. “Okay, stand still.” He whispered as he cut the air with a precise and calculated motion.

In front of him, a weak and captured Aizen was sliced in half, with no Hogyoku to bring him back to life.

In reality, Ichigo sheathed his sword again, eyes closed as the kid fell down with a clumsy thump, the cut rope tangling over him. He once more carved the bloody smile into his face. “There.”

(To be honest, Ichigo was impressed by his self-control.)

Unaware that once more, he had avoided death at Ichigo’s hands, the little bother harrumphed to himself, untangling himself and scrambling away from the former trap. The boy looked down at the mess of string at his feet, his own ankle still captured by it and he deflated, fidgety and embarrassed. “Thank you…”

“Yeah.” Ichigo muttered, averting his eyes from perturbingly familiar eyes. His eyes were drawn once again to his face when the child gasped in dismay and he had time to see the worn-down glasses finally giving way to bad treatment and falling to the floor in two pieces. He watched impassively as Aizen-in-Diapers kneeled down and stared on blankly at the broken object.

Out of nowhere, flashes of memory came back unsolicited as always and made Ichigo hesitate. Had Aizen ever had bad eyesight? Ichigo narrowed his eyes, but before he could even say anything the boy lifted his face, and teary-eyed, he looked straight at him for help.

“Shinigami-san… it broke… can you fix it?”

But Ichigo was transfixed to his place, suddenly assaulted by fierce brown eyes, unimpeded by mundane glass and so  _ so familiar- _

“Shinigami-san…  _ oops, he broke. I don’t suppose you can fix him, now can you-?” _

Pain lanced his head as the memory mingled with his sight and next thing he knows he’s no longer with the kid, instead he’s huddled against the bark of a tree, heart pounding in his chest like a hammer and his head hurting like it was splitting in two and-

‘ _ Calm down… Ichigo…. Ichigo!!’ _

Ridiculous, uncalled for, embarrassing and maybe Aizen was just laughing at his back-

A long gash was carved on his forearm. It blazed in pain, and Ichigo’s shoulders bowed with pain and relief.

Real.

He was in the past.

This was real-

‘ _ Ichigo.’ _

He knew he was being ridiculous, and he knew what Zangetsu wanted to say to him. He didn’t answer as humiliation seeped into his mind, enveloping him and telling him what a pathetic hero he was. But belatedly he noticed he kept on babbling, “I don’t know if this is real. I mean, I feel the pain in my arm, but how can I know that is enough? How can I know Aizen didn’t simply evolve while I slept and managed to trap me in the perfect illusion, because those eyes are too familiar and there’s just no way this kid is not Aizen but if he’s Aizen then-“

He cut himself short, drowning with his own words.

‘ _ Are ya’ done?’  _ Zangetsu asked, in what would have been his usual snarky tone if he didn’t sound so winded and his voice wasn’t so much as a whisper. ‘ _ Look. Mainly, this is your paranoia talking. We have no way of knowing if this is truly an illusion… unless we listen to what others have told us. Unless we remember. Because, damn it Ichigo, you  _ know  _ Aizen cannot tamper with your memories. You have not recognized anything – and not even Aizen, except at this moment, and that’s because he is still Aizen, that ain’t changing. You feel the pain on your arm, right? Well, your own cells remember what pain feels like. The scars are the reminder of your wars. Of all the hardships you’ve overcome. So shut yer trap and list’n to me. Continue like you’ve done. Yer doing just fine. Jus’ calm down.’ _

_ “ _ …yes.”

‘ _ Good, now yer listening. Toush may have been wrong in many things, but at least we can trust his last advice, amirite?’  _

“That’s captain Hitsugaya for you.” Ichigo mumbled, remembering how he had annoyed the little captain to the end of the world. “I’ll keep it in mind… Zangetsu?”

‘ _ Yes, yes, you’re welcome. Now focus. You ditched the kid again. Why?’ _

Ichigo bit down on his lip as he started thinking. What would he tell the kid? Why had he disappeared so suddenly? Had he felt a Hollow? But how sensitive was the kid to reiatsu? If the kid  was sensitive and hadn’t sensed anything and he knew he could, would he get suspicious? Better to rule out the possibility. 

This mind did an abrupt double-take.

The glasses.

Diapers had asked him if he could fix them.

He could work with that.

‘ _ And that will give you a window of opportunity to see for yourself how far back you went.’  _ Zangetsu mumbled, approvingly.

Because what better place to find artifacts than Soul Society?

 

* * *

 

Ichigo didn’t know what he had been expecting, but he certainly wasn’t expecting this. Everything in Rukongai looked exactly the same.  

Absolutely everything.

The lone Shinigami stood at the edge of the outer districts, somehow overwhelmed at how many people there were. Hundreds of thousands of little souls walked and talked and haggled and fought, living their lives as they had done for decades. Longer, probably.

Ichigo sighed.

He mentally recited his made-up backstory, muted his reiatsu as far as he figured a low profile unseated Shinigami would be, reminded himself he looked nothing like Kaien and inhaled once more the pure air before submerging into the chaos.

He hadn’t spent long walking when his ears immediately caught soft pitter patter, zeroing in on it, ignoring the rest of the racket, and he had already used shunpo to disappear way before the small soul could even get close to trying to steal from him.

This was like the time he had gone to the Fourth’s barracks, or city as Kyouraku jokingly said, as the injured count was similar in number. Ichigo had not felt comfortable then, and he hadn’t been alone nor had people tried to pickpocket him. This was nerve-wracking to no end.

So many faces, so many hands to keep watch over, so many bodies pushing against one another. He had to constantly fight the impulse to draw his blade – because the last four hundred times he had been surrounded by so many had been on the battlefield, had been on the verge of losing people he loved, each and every time. But no, he tried to look at the child’s faces and remind himself of where he was.

“Where can I find glasses though?” Ichigo muttered to himself, as he tried to center himself. If his memory served him right, this was one of the outer districts, the rowdy low-class kind. He would not find food here, and water would be hard to come by. Anything else was superfluous and not required. He’d need to move further in-

_ Into the trap awaiting for h- _

‘ _ Not a trap. This is not a trap.’  _ Ichigo told himself, trying to believe it. He looked around himself, noticing just for the first time how his presence brought up so many faces of fear and caution. He still forgot how much he scared the civilians. Ichigo launched to the air once more and pressed forward towards the inner districts…

Was he actually going in the right direction though? Rukongai was huge so he could very well be crossing it sideways, avoiding the center all together. He looked around and saw very much the same conditions as kilometers ago.

 

 

It annoyed him, but his best bet would be to ask. Ichigo looked around for something or someone who could point him in the correct direction.

“Hey,” he called out to the first vendor he saw, waiting for the poor soul to recover from the fright his sudden appearance gave him. “What district is this?”

“A-ah, eh, well, the-the seventieth district, Northen Rukongai  Shinigami, sir.”

Ichigo’s brow deepened in confusion.

And then it creased further at realizing.

“Thanks,” he muttered, before he jumped into the air again. Both of his spirits kept quiet. With old, tired eyes he drank in the view. He carefully oversaw every single detail, all the dirt, the scuffles, the misery and the  _ life.  _

It was sad.

So many things had happened, the eradication of half of Rukongai wasn’t on Ichigo’s fore thoughts.

 

* * *

 

He had continued to forge on, trying not to think too much on how fragile everything was. He continued walking on, asking for indications, and eventually he found a proper store in the midst of all that blur.

“…well sir, we don’t have much on glasses.  I mean, uh, we can’t know if your… friend’s nephew? Uh, the best thing would be for him to be here so he could try on some glasses and see which fit him-“

“Hmm, don’t think so.” Ichigo muttered darkly, trying to pay attention over the constant buzzing in his ears – even more annoying, something small had started to resonate like a second heart in his mind and Ichigo had identified it as Diaper’s detection signal, distracting and annoying, like always. “It would be a very long trip. Get me … two… or three of the most common prescriptions-“

“Prescriptions-?”

“Uh, the most common versions-“

“Yes sir.”

 

* * *

 

Ichigo hated sake. He hated the bitter taste of it. This always drew a face of sadness on Kyouraku and Kisuke and his father and Ichigo could not stop the thoughts from surfacing, if briefly, when he tried not to choke on his cup. It had always annoyed him, those looks.

“ _ Too young to drink, but not to fight a war, huh?” _

The lonesome Shinigami scowled even harder as he downed the drink in one motion. One thing had nothing to do with the other. He just wasn’t into alcohol, so sue him. He was not a child for that.

They shouldn’t feel guilty he was there.

_ ‘Focus, Ichigo.’ _ His Quincy mumbled, a tiny spike of reiatsu nudging him into business. He had entered a no-name pub in hope of overhearing something useful and had not been surprised at the amount of rumors and chitter chatter going on about.

He had been struck silly by the names thrown around like if they were nothing.

Hirako-taicho.

Ukitake-taicho and Kyouraku-taicho, their presence as always, timeless and steady.

And the current Twelve Division captain had Ichigo’s soul plummeting to the ground.

Hikifune Kirio

_ Exactly how far back had he been sent? _

 

* * *

 

After breaking his cup of sake by accident, the tense Hybrid had sat there with shoulders hunched as he tried to catch some more information above the buzzing in his ears and trying not to draw much attention to himself. 

After a while of increasing tension, he had concluded that he was done with baseless, ridiculous rumors (classical rumors of the wealthy) and had instead decided to ditch the place so he could get thinking.

Ichigo and his spirits had all agreed that he needed more information. Getting into Seireitei without any plan would be a total pain in the ass, so he’d be limited to Rukongai, and since he looked like an officer, asking “obvious” questions would certainly draw attention…

Huh.

Ichigo supposed he could do with a change of clothing.

 

* * *

Feeling utterly ridiculous in his plain sand-colored clothes with a stupid red dragon crossing his chest, with Zangetsu strung to his leg, the bump hidden with some extra fabric that he supposed was a cape, Ichigo walked inside yet another pub.

_ ‘Nothing we can do on tha’ big fat scar of yours without some heavy makeup and  _ then _ we run the risk of you looking like yer cousin again, so ya should lighten up that pretty face of yers ‘cause you needa minimize the intimidation factor. Crack a joke, smile or something.’ _

‘I wouldn’t exactly trust someone with such an obvious battle wound and an easy smile.’ Ichigo shot back trying to remind himself that he shouldn’t reply out loud.

_ ‘Of course ya wouldn’t! It’s  _ you _! You’re a walking paranoia!’  _ Zangetsu declared exasperated and with irritating vehemence as Ichigo tried to drink his tea with some peace. His sword hadn’t been particularly happy that he was Kurosaki Ichigo today either. ‘ _ Haha, very funny. But, stupid King, we tryin’ to be undercover, remember? Try ta look less suspicious!’ _

_ ‘ _ Well what would you like me to do? Jump on the counter and juggle some bottles? My face ain’t changing and I am not smiling; fuck, Shiro!’ Ichigo was  _ this  _ close to banging his fist on said counter as his sword continued on not being helpful.

‘ _ The fuck ya callin’ me Shiro for, huh? Want me to start calling yer ass Orangey, huh?’ _

_ ‘ _ It’s your fucking nickname. It has been since you fucking existed! Be grateful I even call you Zangetsu most of the times! Don’t you fucking call me Orange, you stupid lump of metal!’

‘ _ Oi-‘ _

_ ‘Enough.’  _ Both of the quarreling males immediately shut up as Ichigo’s Quincy spirit finally spoke up, irritation exuding from his presence. ‘ _ You will stop being so ridiculous. It is not the place nor the time for petty fights. And  _ please  _ don’t make such stupid ones in my presence.’ _

_ ‘ _ ….Yeah, sorry Zangetsu.’ Ichigo managed to input before he was dragged out of his internal….drama, by some sniggering. Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see two blokes elbowing each other and pointing at him not so subtly. It did not take much for the words they drunkenly whispered to reach Ichigo.

“Such a baby.” “Drinking tea, ha!” And other similar things.

Now normally, Ichigo would be absolutely repulsed by their drunken state (he hated the taste of liquor but he hated specially the state it put his friends in; Kyouraku and he had had several discussions on that regard) and would have ignored words of such feeble souls. But Shiro-Zangetsu had managed to rile him up enough that he immediately called for the bartender to pour him some sake. He downed six consecutive cups without breathing (or retching) before he shot the previously laughing souls a look. Startled the men looked at each other for a moment before bursting in laughter. They stood up and waddled over to sit by his side.

“Sorry for upsetting ye friend, we see we were wrong to judge. Ye can handle yer alcohol just fine, huh?” One said as he helped himself to Ichigo’s sake, drunk enough or stupid enough not to be wary of the scarred youth.

Meanwhile, Ichigo assessed his new companions with critical eyes. The deformed corner of his lips raised slightly. This was perfect.

 

As the day gave way to the night, Ichigo stayed drinking with them, making sure his body burned the alcohol away as he offered cups and questions to the drunk Shin’ou academy students.


	4. Chapter 4

Ichigo was staring blankly at the sky, his back against the bark of the tallest and sturdiest tree he could find whose branch could support his weight. He had long since changed back into his normal clothes, having tossed the sand-colored mess away at the first chance he got. Ichigo had secluded himself to the tree, having watched the sun come up and down more times than he cared to count, but still he couldn’t seem to be able to make a decision.

His face ached.

While useful for his planned excursion into Seireitei, the information supplied by the students hadn’t been much more clarifying.

He knew that Shinji and Rose had been captains of the Gotei before being Hollowfied, and Kyouraku being in the Gotei was synonymous to the sky being blue.

Those names didn’t really give him much a point of reference, other than confirming that he was indeed in the past. And still, it had been a single name that had felt like being socked in the stomach.

For the captain of the twelfth was none other than the future member of the Zero Division, Hikifune Kirio.

_Exactly how far back had he been sent?_

And, well, Ichigo could have been able to carry on like that, because being captain wasn’t a requirement for _existing_ or even for helping Ichigo but...

Urahara Kisuke was not a name they recognized. That wasn’t to say that he did not exist yet or that he was not in the academy  —maybe he had already finished but he was doing something shady before entering the Gotei 13 ranks, which would be just like him. But even as the thought occurred, Ichigo was already dashing his own hopes. He doubted Urahara was much older than Aizen.

What was he going to do?

What irritated him the most was the fact that he had had some stupid hope that hat-and-clogs would have been able to help him even with these odd circumstances they would meet in. He had been hoping for someone to-

Ichigo shook his head, clearing his thoughts. Whatever, this barely changed things. This only meant that even if Ichigo beheaded the kid, he wouldn’t be able to return to his time for a long while.

But that wasn’t the current plan. No. He had decided to change the future. And for that he’d take care of Baby-Aizen and make sure he became a decent being, or kill him if it turned out to be impossible.

But how long? How long before he could say his job was done? How long would he have to stay with Diapers to make sure the future was safe?

‘ _Well, at the very least you have to wait for Shady-Eyes to appear, and he’d need to be a little intelligent so maybe we’d have to wait until he’s cap or something… Worry about this sometime later, now you know roughly what time period we’re in, so you gotta go back to the kid.’_ Zangetsu spoke up, doing his best to suffocate the downwards spiral to a panic attack.

Ichigo inhaled sharply, as if he had forgotten he was not absolutely, irrevocably, alone. He breathed in, out. Once he felt himself calmer he finally answered back.

“What am I going to do? What _should_ I do? If I can’t find Kisuke, then I can’t go back-”

‘ _Ya wanna go back now?’_

Pain. Blood. So many deaths.  Smoke and darkness and his laughter. Hideous, mocking and-

Ichigo shuddered and shut down his memories again.

“ _No-”_ He whispered, voice thick with emotion, sweat dotting his forehead, his back. “I mean not immediately, not before completing my mission…”

‘ _Then stop fretting over it until you have to deal wi’ the problem. Ichigo! This is how we’ve always dealt with things! Don’t ponder on the inevitable or the unchangeable and focus on today!’_

 _‘Shiro is right, Ichigo.’_ His other self agreed, amiably.

 _‘Oi, who ya calling Shiro, name’s Zangetsu ye fucking Quincy.’_ The white Zangetsu quipped but was ignored by the other two.

 _‘We aren’t a soul that worries of the future ahead. We take things in stride, as they come, and always, without fail overcome every obstacle. And that’s exactly what we’re going to do. So, it would be to our best interest if you returned to, ah,_ Diapers.’

Ichigo stopped moving and thinking for barely a beat. Then he jumped down and dashed towards the clearing in which he had left Ai- Diapers.

He thought he could see her smiling at him, but that would make no sense.

 

* * *

 

“Shinigami-san!” A cry of excitement greeted him the moment he touched down on the ground next to the fire still burning; his senses and attention fully focused on the child that dashed to meet him.

Why was he running? Why did he seem so enthusiastic?

“Here.” Ichigo said, tossing him the first pair of glasses he could grab, the boy barely had time to stop in his tracks and lunge for the object soaring over his head.

“Huh? …Glasses? You went back for this?” The kid asked, his eyeglasses-less face showcasing his surprise. It lasted for a bit before a grin split his face in two. “Thank you very much, Shinigami-san!”

He proceeded to put them on and immediately squinted. A spark of worry lit up inside Ichigo.

“Not those ones then, try these.” He said with a neutral tone, even as he felt dread curling in his stomach. He accepted the first pair from a confused Aizen and handed him the next.

The child squinted harder.

Ichigo smiled as the fretting child grabbed yet another pair. He was biting down on his lips and he hunched in on himself more and more as none of the pairs seemed to work. He started avoiding Ichigo’s stare.

At the end, Ichigo produced a last pair and handed them in silence. A no longer smiling Aizen-in-diapers took hold of them and hesitated before putting them on. To his obvious surprise he could see with them, he looked at his surroundings, mouth opening and he turned to tell Shinigami that he could see clearly with those-

Pain met his body.

The child could not understand what was going on, why was he lying on his back and why was Shinigami pointing his sword at him and, “‘nigami-shan… it hurts…why-?”

Blazing amber eyes stared back at him over a sea of scars with such intensity, Aizen could swear he was being pinned down by it and it was such an oppressive glare, he had trouble breathing and when Ichigo began to speak, he could swear his voice was double-toned but he had no idea why.

“You’re going to have one shot to answer this, Aizen. Why do you wear glasses?”

The kid squirmed in place and avoided his gaze yet again yet whimpered when the pain on his neck sparked with a wet pop that meant that skin had broken. Tears started accumulating in his eyes, and the kid started trembling. He did not say anything.

“I am waiting, Aizen. Your move. What are you going to do?”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I made you go so far to get them, but I don’t have bad eyesight!” Aizen finally whimpered out, eyes closed shut as the gibberish continued to pour out. A small trickle of blood flowed down to the ground, painting a thin line of bright red on his neck. Ichigo’s heightened senses clogged with the scent of blood. “I just thought that with glasses I would look less intimidating! Be-cause everytime the other kids run away because they say I’m scary!”

“Too bad that’s actually a good excuse.”

“Eh-?”

For one frightening moment, the kid could swear it was death himself glaring at him.

But then all he could see was the blue of the sky.

The child continued to cry.

 

* * *

 

That was probably the original reason he had done so. Aizen had nailed the goody-two-shoes captain look. And he had it all figured out since a toddler. Figures.

Ichigo was musing to himself, willingly making sense of what had happened. He was trying his best to think this as reality, but this was still Aizen so he needed to make sure the boy wasn’t lying to him. He clearly had perfected his innocent persona since he was very young, giving him enough time to fool everyone he met.

Was this how he had managed to get under the Gotei’s skin?

Had it all began as a desperate plea to belong somewhere?

All of a sudden he saw the hunched backs of Starrk and Lilynette with his mind’s eye, alone in a world that hated them, struggling to fit in, and going as far as living boring, senseless lives just to suppress the raw power that could annihilate everyone around them. Except Ichigo of course.

Angry at this reminder, Ichigo slammed Zangetsu in the ground.

_Lonely._

Ichigo screamed, alone in the forest.

It resonated in his mind, as well as a distant memory, an echo, a plea for help.

_Lonely._

He had _no_ right!

_Lonely._

_Lonely._

 

* * *

 

“I hate liars.” Were the words that passed Ichigo’s lips, reigning in his anger just right to further scare the kid, but not more. His ever simmering emotions had been finally tucked away and Ichigo had returned to a silent and sad kid.

That said, the tired Shinigami turned around, bent on disappearing for the evening. He was stopped by the softest of ruffles.

His head snapped to stare at him. Silent as the grave, dangerous as a blade.

“I’m sorry…Please don’t leave… I won’t do that again.”

Was the kid actually asking this of him? He almost got murdered by Ichigo and…

“You’re crazy.”

That made two of them.

 

It was a bizarre evening for Ichigo. While it wasn’t unusual for him to be all friendly with guys he had eviscerated (or viceversa), it was usually a process that took a couple months at the least.  And they were forced to come together to defeat a bigger, common enemy.

The World Savior stared at the rambling kid over the fire he had built.

Why was the kid so eager to keep Ichigo company? They had no common enemy, they had nothing in common. Ichigo had done nothing to prove he was harmless, on the contrary, he had already made him cry on several occasions. The kid _was_ scared, rightfully so, but he kept coming back, time and time again.

It made him wonder, was he so desperate for…? “Don’t you have any friends?” Blunt as always, Ichigo interrupted as he watched the kid cringe, fingers messing around with his torn clothes. The small red stain on his neck jumped out at him again.

“No…  not really. That’s why I’m so glad to have you here, Shinigami-san.”

“I’m not your friend.”  Was the knee-jerk reaction, making the kid wave his hands around frantically.

“A-ah, I meant…Just keeping me company.” Diapers mumbled shyly and grossly. A smile pulled at his lips when Ichigo didn’t snap anything back. But as usual, the reaper was having darker thoughts.

‘ _More like keeping an eye on you and –if—it were necessary, keeping you from seeing another sunrise.’_

His blade glistened as the bloodlust appeared, but Ichigo was undeterred.  His mind couldn’t help but wander over to a certain shopkeeper. What would he say to him? Any sort of pointers or advice or anything to understand and take control of the situation, he’d like to think. It was not like he was stupid himself, but he had left subtlety behind for war and he’d never been big on mental manipulation.

His eyes darkened and his chest pulsed with pain as he recalled his last moments. His last words.

The echoes of an unfinished promise rang in his ears.

 

* * *

 

“Hey, Shinigami-san, are you hungry? I caught a big fish, it’s over by the river, come on!”

Ah well, this was his mission now.

He might as well obey his elders for once.

The days continued to pass.  The pulse of Aizen in Ichigo’s mind finally became a background noise as he grew used to it, as well as the presence of the kid. Diapers had decided to forgo his glasses for the moment, which for some reason irritated Ichigo to no end. But since it had been his fault, he did not bring it up.

The child was now in charge of getting enough food for both of them, while Ichigo sat on his butt and watched over him. Even though he was getting tired of eating fish every day, he didn’t pay it much mind. For one, he had long since stopped being picky about food.  Neither the state it was in, the repetitiveness or the meager quantity available; for another, he didn’t think he was mentally prepared to see Aizen gutting a rabbit or something similar.

This lack of action, made Ichigo restless. Tense and unhappy, he started scowling for no good reason until his sword berated him, called him a ‘fucking wuss’, and repeated that he should ‘bloody smile’. But Aizen seemed undeterred. Either he didn’t notice or he didn’t care, as he continued coming back to Ichigo with a smile on his face. Like a child. Who didn’t know better, who couldn’t know better. Who took whatever life threw at him with open arms, whatever it was. Something Ichigo had stopped doing even before being submerged in Shinigami problems, even before coming of age. That fateful day when Grand Fisher had appeared in the rain.

The rain had not stopped until someone came into his life. Someone who refused to leave, refused to leave him alone, refused to let him blame himself and made the rain finally stop. She- So Diapers was probably crazy but he could work with crazy. God knew all his friends were just different levels of insane.

But still… His joints creaked in protest, his reiatsu trying to whip out around him. He needed to do something, this inactivity was too much. He stood up, turned to the kid and stated. “I’m leaving.” Before the child had time to do more than widen his eyes in something like fear, choking on his food he added, “I’ll be back, I need to exercise.”

“Sh-ack-wha-?” Diapers continued coughing trying to get his words out, but calmed down somewhat by Ichigo’s later words. He lifted teary eyes. “You’ll be back?”

“Yeah.” Ichigo said succinctly, but then he felt a little awkward. “Don’t worry. I’m… Anyway, don’t die on me while I’m gone.” Somehow he managed to switch the ‘please’ with ‘don’t’ before the words came out. That was a good thing. Probably.

 

* * *

 

He went to Hueco Mundo. Even though Hollows still entered Soul Society, he needed to feel the raw ambient, know he could let loose without repercussion. He just avoided strong reiatsus. He didn’t want to accidentally kill some of his future-friends. Ichigo paused, his sword slicing limply the undifferentiated menos in front of him.

Come to think of it, if he ever found them, he would see them in their pre-baby form. The ridiculous idea that he could take pictures of them to blackmail Grimmjow in the future surfaced and almost made him smile. Instead, he cleared his mind and lungs with the vibrant air of Hueco Mundo as he spread terror and destruction to the creatures borne out of despair and hopelessness itself.

 

Ichigo wasn’t sure. But he vaguely remembered crying. He knew why. And like this he had no way of proving her wrong. But there was no way around this. There wasn’t. Really.

He knew she was right. He had come out to release his pent up frustration and ended up creating a veritable mountain of corpses.

 

Alone in the endless lightless desert, the World Savior, drenched in blood that wasn’t his own, buried his face in his hands, allowing this gesture only because he was surrounded by dissolving carcasses.

 

* * *

 

Ichigo wanted to go find Kisuke. Even as young as he probably was now, he was pretty sure he deserved a good ass-kicking.  The young man grumbled under his breath as he undressed in front of the minuscule trickle of water coming out of a protuberance in the rocks. He had already prepared a makeshift tub, filled with water to dump his soiled clothes in and he stepped into the tiny stream to wash himself off. It barely got to his ankles, but a second tub had been set aside for him to pour it over himself. Tired, and eerily reminded of his baths in this same place but under different circumstances and a different time period, the tired man washed off the remaining grim clinging to his skin. At the end, he paused, cupped hands holding water to his face. It was vague, but Ichigo could still see himself reflected.

It was always weird seeing his scarred face. Especially when in conjunction with his unmarred neck. Medical officers had always been running low —Orihime was only called upon an emergency as to not deplete her reiatsu (it had been nigh difficult to make her agree though), so Ichigo had patched himself up to the best of his abilities most of the times. He was carried over to Unohana herself the two times his face greeted a blade (the second time with the blade still lodged inside him) while Orihime had been reattaching Grimmjow’s leg or otherwise engaged. He had been saved, but kidou did not set time back. So he had been carrying those awkward scars on his face ever since.

The Santen Kesshun user had been horrified and had immediately tried to heal those wounds but he had ushered her away. He wouldn’t die of a scar and she’d better save up her energy to save someone else. And anyway, the shinigami would be highly offended if the human-hybrid got better treatment than they did.

What explained his neck was that reattaching his head back to his shoulders did, in fact, warrant Orihime’s attention.

He traced the fissures on his face, hand traveling down his smooth neck and landing on the uneven terrain of his battle-weary body. It had been a while since he last looked into a mirror but it wasn’t like he was missing on much.

‘ _Oi, little princess.’_ His ever present sword decided to interrupt his musings with his typical snark – which Ichigo rarely appreciated. ‘ _Either finish washing your clothes or dry them already if ye don’t wanna stink like a … like a-‘_

 _‘Drowned skunk.’_ His Quincy decided to follow along, with his impassive, tranquil voice. Ichigo just wanted to know why Zangetsu seemed hell-bent on acting up against him for the most ridiculous things. His two personas even got along!

_‘Ooh, Kuro what a dirty mind-‘_

‘I’d like to know who this ‘Kuro’ you’re referring to.’ The Quincy blade asked suddenly frigid. Ichigo could feel an incoming headache at that.

_‘If ye lot can call me Shiro, I’m sure as hell calling you Kuro, old man!’_

“For the love of… I already said I was _sorry_ , but the nickname stuck! And anyways both of you are named Zangetsu and _your_ blade has a _white_ edge last time I checked!” Ichigo exclaimed loudly, fingers pointing accusingly at nothing as he focused more on his inner discussion. At this, his lousy blade decided it was a good moment to materialize which had Ichigo hurrying to cover his decency. It did not help when the Quincy blade decided that he too needed to physically manifest alongisde Shiro.

“ _What the fuck you think yer doing!?”_ Ichigo demanded, more surprised than anything else. Still, he kicked Shiro when he pointedly looked between his legs and muttered something like, ‘ _not like you have much ta show ta be honest.’_

‘ _I just want to point out that Kuro is not a suitable name for myself.’_

“Is this really the moment?” Ichigo asked the glasses-wearing man, spreading a hand to encompass their surroundings. “I’m butt-naked in enemy land, with _no_ dry clothes to wear!”

‘ _Well why aren’t you drying them then?’_ His both swords asked simultaneously in such a manner that had Ichigo clawing at his scalp in frustration.

“I would. If ye’ dumbasses weren’t butting in like this, goddammit!”

‘ _See? He’s even talkin’ like me. Admit it, Old Man, I’m the favorite.’_

“I _do not_ want to talk like you, idiot!  You sound like some cheap thug! I never spoke like that, why are you like this!?” Seeing Shiro opening his mouth in a perfect semblance of insulted, Ichigo kicked at him again. “No, shut up! Either let me put on my clothes or fuck off!”

‘ _Let’s see you trying to dry ‘em, Orangey!’_

 _“_ I _swear to god_ -!  Sokat-!”

‘ _Incantation first, Ichigo. You do not own another uniform.’_

_‘Yah, and we all know ya’ suck at Kidou.’_

Ichigo groaned. “Shut. Up.  Ye lord, mask of blood and flesh, flutter of… of –“

‘ _Wings, Ichigo. Again.’_

Ichigo grumbled. He repeated the incantation, feeling his reiatsu surging from his center and pointed his open palm to a couple meters away from his soaked clothes. “Sokatsui.” He finally managed to declare and a strong torrent of flames exploded from his hands, undirected and uncontrolled. Ichigo just made sure it did not touch his clothes and he cut the flow of reiatsu once his was sure his clothes were somewhat dry.

He grabbed at the black robes and smiled proudly to feel them steamy and dry for once.

‘ _Y’know, I said it once, I’ll say it again, man you really suck at Kidou!’_

“You say that every single time. It’s not even funny.” He ignored his petty replies as he got dressed and opened a garganta. He had nothing else to do here. He jumped into the void and started on shunpo, the gaping hole closing up behind him.

In the river stream he had left, a four-legged creature appeared and started sniffing at the area sensing the reiatsu left behind and howled a call.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was also beautified by none other than Misty Paw!
> 
> What are your thoughts so far? Like the banter with Zangetsu? Want to take a guess as to what or who that creature was? Will it be relevant to the story? who knows!
> 
>  
> 
> Don't forget to drop a comment!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there! Sorry for the delay, my internet signal is too ifffy for gdocs more often than not.
> 
> As always big thanks to[MistyPaws](https://archiveofourown.org/users/16mistypaw) for betaing my work, and welcome aboard to [Hadrian](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainHadrian/pseuds/CaptainHadrian) who will be helping us as a second pair of eyes!  
> And never forget Elmund9 (ffn) for giving me helpful concrit all those years ago!

_ “We don’t fight alone. We carry our comrades’ hearts with us, in that way, they don’t really leave us. They never will... Ichigo, no matter what happens, or where you are, you are not alone. Those who have left you, live in your heart. Those who remain, we stand by you. We will fight alongside you. You are not alone.” _

 

Ichigo wished he could agree with those (painful, excruciating) words. 

 

He had never liked seeing his friends fight such powerful enemies, so he had tried to take the brunt of their forces as often as possible, but he always had had a place to return to. People to return to.

Even when they had been forced to fight day and night, they’d had each other. They had been mostly together, and even if Ichigo insisted on going out alone, even if everyone knew he was the strongest of them all, they all still insisted on going with him. Had actually saved Ichigo’s life more times than what he could recall. Kisuke had even rescued him from  _ Hell _ , enough said.

Now he was separate from anyone he knew, in a way perhaps even more permanent than death. His friends had always managed to center him. To make him feel a little human after endless killings. And now…

 

“Halt! Who goes there?”

 

Ichigo froze. His downwards-spiraling thought reaching a screeching halt as he returned to reality, feeling all of his senses on edge. Behind him, he was suddenly aware of the presence of someone who had a painfully familiar voice which he refused to recognize.

_ Because there just was no way- _

“What is your name, officer?”

Ichigo took one last fortifying breath before turning around to face whoever was crazy enough to want to talk to him.

 

He had been wandering the outskirts of Rukongai for a good while, trying to put himself in order after all of the events that had occurred so far. But either due to his face, presence or plain common sense, people tended to give him a wide berth. Even the lowest of the low knew not to mess with him, even if only on a subconscious level. He had not expected to bump into anyone, less so…

 

P ain constricting his chest, he finished turning around and stared… down at the dark-skinned skinny teenage girl pointing a finger smugly at him. At her side, a dirty-blond teenager was hanging back, looking a little curious but most likely not surprised at all at his friend’s behavior. To the gal’s right, stood a tall gangly teen who was outright ignoring them by reading a book whilst walking. 

Even though they were young, there was no mistaking who they were. There was no mistaking the dark-skin and golden eyes of a Shihoin; or the pale, slightly unkempt boy that would one day be his mentor. Even the tallest of them, although thin rather than burly, and with his long hair pulled up into a high bun he had only seen in historical plays, was unmistakable.

Even as panic-stricken as he was, his mind chanted their names like a prayer, a plea. Shihouin Yoruichi. Tsukabishi Tessai and Urahara Kisuke.

Panic ate Ichigo’s tongue which probably was what saved him, otherwise he would have had to explain himself to three certified, if young, geniuses why he had called them all by name.

The way he went stark pale wasn’t much better though.

Yoruichi’s eyes narrowed, while Kisuke’s widened a fraction, now really attentive of him. Neither said anything else and the silence stretched on, tension augmenting and Ichigo was vaguely aware of how the teens shifted in preparation for something.

“What the fuck?”

The tension burst like a bubble, thanks to Ichigo’s wheeze of words, not fully understanding  _ why  _ he had bumped into these three. It was- It should be  _ impossible! _

He had just been miserably pondering on how he was (utterly) alone, and how his friends were not with him (and never would be again) when he once more realized that life hated him and slapped an answer to his prayers in the worst possible way.

Heart beating several miles per hour, the time-traveler tried to come up with something to say in the oppressing silence, Zangetsu too busy trying to make him calm down unless he bolted away, to be of any help.

“So, are you planning on telling them your name or will we be stuck here forever?” The tallest teen mumbled, with barely a glance up. The new Tessai had instantly become Ichigo’s favorite person. In a split second, god-knows-how, the young adult composed himself, pretending he did not know them. Pretending they weren’t who they were. Pretending they had not saved Ichigo in more ways than one, as well as the other way around. Pretending they were nothing more than strangers. Pretending he hadn’t harbored a hope that, in them, he’d find someone he could rely on, under any circumstance.

Ichigo could play at that.

“A-ah yes, well, I’m- wait a second, why should I?” He said in an attempt to sound casual, even slightly annoyed. He ignored the buzzing in his ears as best as he could.

Yoruichi’s cat-like eyes hadn’t stopped scrutinizing him. Shit, when had she been appointed head of the Onmitsukido? She was too young right now, right?

“I’d suggest following along the Shihouin princess’ whims. Also, where’s the harm?” The blond boy –who  _ just happened _ to be named Kisuke as well—said with a little bounce in place. 

_ ‘Piercing my heart _ .’ Ichigo stupidly thought, before he crossed his arms, refusing to cave in. He looked away from them, aware of the way his heart constricted. “Shouldn’t you introduce yourselves first?”

This drew an exchange of mildly confused looks between the teens.

Shit. Did he do something wrong?

“I’m Urahara Kisuke. That’s Tsukabishi Tessai. Of course, she’s Shihoin Yoruichi, though I suppose you knew that already.” The blond boy said in a mild tone, gesturing, first to himself, then to each of his friends.

Shit. Yeah,  _ obviously _ . That had been it.

“So?” Iron-colored eyes looked back at him, coy smile in place. “Your name?”  _  I swear on everything that I won’t let- _

Blood pounding in his ears, Ichigo had to do his best not to start crying that exact moment. This was not the time or the place to be remembering bleak promises and he’d be damned if he faltered and gave himself away.

But still, it wasn’t like he could just give out his name freely.

If they started calling him Ichigo he might just balk right there. His time was running out fast, he needed to give them a fake name, but one he could answer to, but not one they could recognize, but not one so weird as to not sound like a name, but not one that-

_ Shit. He was running out of time. _

_ “ _ Shirosaki.” He managed to push out of his frozen lips. His voice might have sounded a bit winded, but it wasn’t likely they would notice.

But when it registered, he felt like stabbing himself.

What the fuck kind of lame ass name was that?

Ichigo did his best not to cringe, slightly relieved (and belatedly mortified) that  the young teens apparently took him at face value.

“Surname too, Shiro!” The Shihouin princess exclaimed playfully already butchering up his ridiculous name. Ichigo did his best to swallow past the knot in his throat.

“Name’s K-Kon. Shirosaki is my surname.”

What the fuck. What the _fuck_. There were thousands of better names than  _ those.  _ If anyone ever got wind of-

“Alright then, what’s your division, Shirosaki-?”

“Now, come on, I have places to be, kids. Let’s leave it at that.” Ichigo interrupted the girl and given their mild surprise that was yet another mistake (although to be honest he was not— had never been good at bending over backwards over etiquette). Still, this whole thing was grating on his nerves and he didn’t have long before his mind snapped in two and… he had no idea what he would do. Run, probably.

Ochre eyes with a hint of gold snapped back into attention when he sensed movement. Pouting, _ fucking pouting,  _ Yoruichi disappeared from her place, eyes ablaze and headed to nab a knee in his gut. Ichigo, however had not missed a single step the girl had given, he followed her every move and without conscious thought he dodged, making (future) Flash Step Goddess Yoruichi stumble to her feet in the empty space he had left behind.

_ Shit.  _ Belatedly, he realized he shouldn’t have dodged that.

Appraising iron eyes. Surprised black eyes. Enraged, hissy cat of a woman.

“You can’t dodge that!” The girl exclaimed, all humor gone from her voice as it pitched higher.

“Why not?” How was his voice sounding realistically nonchalant, he had no idea.

“No one can!” Yoruichi said in a dignified tantrum, slamming her foot down and already gearing to continue berating the stranger when Kisuke popped up to declare,

“I can!”

Without even pausing for breath, Yoruichi whirled around, her hair seemingly rising like a frazzled cat. “Shut  _ up _ , Kisuke!”

“Shutting up now!” Kisuke sing-songed with the same cheer as before, irritating her further.

The princess lost her composure as she raised her hands as if wanting to strangle her friend, “Arrgh!”

Ichigo stared dubiously at the childish squabble, the way Kisuke acted like an idiot to annoy his friend and hot-tempered Yoruichi rising to the taunts.

“I don’t get why you are so surprised. I doubt those scars are just decoration. And he’s an official Shinigami, of course he could dodge you, Yoruichi-dono.” Tessai inputted at last, lifting his eyes briefly to assess the rigid Shinigami before returning to his book.

“Which begs the question, where did they come from? A hollow?” Ever-curious Kisuke turned back to him with a sort of innocence that felt like a slap to Ichigo.

“What else could they be from?” Ichigo replied a little breathlessly. Even if, in a way, they were not from any hollow.

Kisuke looked up at him from being shaken down by a much stronger Yoruichi. “I wouldn’t know. Was it a vicious one? Maybe a Menos?”

Ichigo blinked.

 

Ah, right.

 

There had been a time where the most one could expect was a measly Menos.

 

“A wound from  _ that  _ would have split him in two. Maybe a particularly bothersome one-“

This was weird and Ichigo was not having any more of it. So as the teens continued on discussing about him without him, he began to walk away.

 

He managed to give five long steps before the  _ children  _ noticed he was running away.

“Where do you think you’re going?” An unnaturally high-pitched voice stopped him as young Yoruichi crossed her arms imperiously behind him. 

Ichigo scowled but did not turn around. “Away.”

“Hey-!” Yoruichi started walking towards him and Ichigo had enough. He gave one last step before he pushed off the ground in a shunpo.

And he was gone.

 

Ichigo felt a familiar itch on the back of his head. He had gotten the scientist’s interest.

 

_ Shit. _

 

* * *

Ichigo thought he had done a good job of leaving them behind when he noticed their subdued reiatsu making way over to him.

He was not at all proud of his next move.

He suppressed his reiatsu to almost painful levels and dashed away at his fastest shunpo. In less than five seconds he had already crossed the entirety of Rukongai and was once more in the edge of the forest.

Next time he wanted to think, he was going to Hueco Mundo and that was it.

  
  


* * *

‘ _ Bahahahahaha-!’ _

_ ‘When are you planning on shutting up?’ _

‘Shirosaki _! Honestly, ya’ make this too easy for me! Also, even if it’s a crappy name –and holy hell it is –, he’s leanin’ more towards me, eh, Quincy?’ _

_ ‘I do not see how. I commend you, Ichigo for thinking a name you’d actually answer to… though I’d say you could have chosen better.’  _ His other blade stated with vague amusement, pointedly ignoring his counterpart. Ichigo shrugged.

_ ‘Hey, I panicked.’ _

_ ‘Yeah. We noticed.’  _ Shiro added unnecessarily. Apparently seeing a lot of potential for mocking, he then said in a hideously smug tone, ‘ _ so, yer Kon now, huh? Pray tell what made you choose such an appealing, handsome and tasteful name for yer-‘ _

_ ‘If you don’t shut up this second, I’m tossing you into an active volcano.’  _ Ichigo threatened as his face heated up. The name he had come up with was no better than what a three-year-old kid would think of. It was crappy and tasteless, and simply being called Kon was too much for him to take. Kon had done way too many stupid and perverted things for him to be able to just casually adopt his name.

‘ _ Oh puh-lease, as if that would put even a dent on me.’ _

Ichigo quietened down abruptly as his thoughts continued to run rampant, distracting him from his argument with his pesky sword.

“What am I going to do?”

‘ _ Relax man, it ain’t the end of the world. These kids won’t be popping up every day. Also, you know them backwards. There’s no way they would back you into a corner or something.’ _

_ ‘It’s the demonic trio we’re talking about, Shiro. I wouldn’t be so sure.’  _ Ichigo returned to having a non-verbal conversation more out of habit than any need to hide his thoughts in this gigantic blank expanse. He rubbed his face tiredly.

‘ _ Fair point. Still, if ye’ get tricked by these young-as-fuck kids, yer hella more stupid than I thought.’ _

_ ‘Need I remind you of that time they managed to lure you, who is half a soul of a Shinigami, out of our Inner World and capture you?’  _ Zangetsu said mildly, making Ichigo smile despite himself at the way Shiro sputtered indignantly.

‘ _ That is beside the point!’ _

 

* * *

As the last rays of sun died down into the gray hours between day and night, a lonely figure walked into the forest. Already tired, even if he had just returned from supposedly relaxing, Ichigo walked up to a meditating Diapers.

“Hey, kiddo.”

Brown eyes shot open, as the kid reeled back in something like fright before recognizing Ichigo. Having read his every move, the World Savior was not wary this time, just amused. A scared Aizen was always a nice sight.

Diapers blinked. He frowned. He continued to stare, a little annoyed. “How did you do that?”

“Do what?”

“…” Diapers’ face immediately smoothed out from emotion. Which made Ichigo’s hackles rise and he could feel anger coursing through his body. What was this kid hiding from him now?

“ _ Hey _ .”

“Appear from nowhere. I couldn’t even sense you.” The kid said accusingly, perhaps a bit too quickly as Ichigo’s neck vein popped audibly in the ensuing silence. Irritation (but not anger) resurfaced in Ichigo, before he noticed the little wad of pain in his midsection. Ah, right.

With a whoosh of breath, Ichigo relaxed his control on his reiatsu with little finesse, immediately cringing when Diapers started struggling for breath. He reeled it in to his usual low levels, and waited for the kid to begin breathing normally again. He was not expecting the way the kid bounced back with a smile in place, but was too tired to care. He turned away (even as he watched his enemy out of his mind’s eye).

“You’re so strong!” The kid exclaimed (with admiration of all fucking things) from behind him.

“Whatever.”

“Shinigami-san?”

“What,” the man snapped, his patience practically non-existent now. The kid stopped skipping in place and he cowed slightly as he worked out the words.

“Do you… do you have friends?”

Ichigo glared at the tree right in front of him. What the fuck kind of question-?!  _ He had murdered half of them-! How dare he-?! _

_ He was not going to lay a single finger on them. _

“I prefer to be alone.” He hashed out, venom dripping from his every word. He glanced back over his shoulders, Diapers sagged a little, looking downcast for some reason.

‘ _ What? Sad you can’t toy with me, you bastard-?’ _

His expression sobered at the way child-like features took on a lonely cast. Cementing into something sad and resigned.  _ Lonely.  _

How was this relevant?

 

Was this a turning point? 

 

Was this the moment Aizen had decided to stop trying to blend in with his peers?

 

Blood roared in his ears, just like before entering battle. He mustered his breath and opened his mouth. “And that’s why you should consider yourself lucky to have me with you.”

Yoruichi’s bloody face popped into his mind. Tessai’s severed arm. Kisuke’s stitched face.

The way, Diapers looked at him like Ichigo just promised to hang the moon and stars made him physically ill.

He reeled in the nausea as best as he could.

He was going to change things…

He would….

He had promised.

He had been entrusted with the hope.

He had been given one last mission.

 

_ He would not fail. _

  
  
  


* * *

“So what were you doing back there?” A much calmer Ichigo asked while they returned to the clearing that Diapers seemed to frequent. At the same time, he was maintaining a conversation with Zangetsu. The kid trailing behind him hummed.

“Mediating.”

‘ _ Ya’ shouldn’t worry ‘bout the Kisuke thing. Granted he really is some snotty brat right now, but he’ll grow up and learn shit and-‘ _

_ ‘And what? Spring on him, ‘hey, I’m a time-traveler you sent back, help me get back to my time’?’ _

_ ‘Well, ya’ll have to do somethin’!’ _

_ “ _ I’m pretty sure you meant meditating, but okay. What for?”

‘ _ I know _ !  _ That’s not the issue here. I’m just… I was expecting… just forget it.’ _

Diapers shrugged. “I like it. Makes it feel nice and… not so… It’s like I’m not alone.”

‘ _ Yer lonely that what. Y’don’t needa hide that, Ichigo. Not like you could hide it from us anyway, but the fact’s not gonna go away jus’ because you won’t say it.’ _

“That must feel really nice.” Ichigo’s voice came out more melancholic than intended, but Ichigo decided he did not care. He ignored the way the kid looked at him with surprise. “What did you eat while I was away?”

‘ _ I’m sorry, Ichi, I really am, but you won’t have it easy this time around either. No use crying over that.’ _

_ “ _ More fish, and berries. I also got some roots. Also, I like making water with these pretty flowers… I don’t know their name, but they help when I feel tired, maybe you’d like a cup?”

_ ‘I’m not crying. And it’s not… I mean…’ _

_ ‘Yeah, we get it. You weren’t the only one hoping for a comrade this time around.’ _ Shiro mumbled with a little bit of longing. ‘ _ And even if Kyouraku and Hirako exist here as well, we’re just strangers… and if they ever get the slightest idea we’re not fully Shinigami, well, they’d sooner gut us than be friends us. It took a war for them to trust a hybrid to such extent.’  _ It took blood. It took pain. It took them experiencing the same. Now it was just Ichigo with the scars, the fear.

Ichigo was an outsider now.

He felt like he had spent his whole life being one.

  
  


* * *

Ichigo had learned some stuff today. Even when young, Yoruichi still had been at least as fast if not more than your average Shinigami officer. She seemed to always hang out with Kisuke and Tessai.

They were good at reading reiatsu, they had been able to pick on and recognize Ichigo’s signature, although he would have no trouble avoiding them if he really put his mind to it. Same went for Baby-Aizen. Diapers liked to meditate for some reason. To resonate with his dormant zanpakuto, maybe?

Ichigo’s muscles tensed. It didn’t matter whether he attended the academy or not —  _ if  _ Ichigo let him—, many Shinigami with high levels of reiatsu, Ichigo himself was a perfect example, could materialize their own zanpakuto without need for an Asauchi. Granted, it would never be as strong, but…

How long did Ichigo have before his illusions were activated-? He would get suspicious if he refused to witness his Shikai. Aizen would make conjectures, he would save it for later, and would do his utmost best to make Ichigo surrender to it. He was immune now. He supposed he was. He should be, but there was no guarantee, there never was. He had thought he had been, but then somehow Aizen got even more powerful and trapped him in an illusionary Muken. No sights, no sounds, no feeling, nothing but emptiness all around him. Ichigo had been scared of not knowing what was outside the illusion. Was he being killed? Was he being tossed into open warfare? But what if he was in a medical tent with his friends? He could not draw his sword. He had had no way of knowing, so he decided that his body could go to hell for all he cared and went into his Inner World to train. He had already beaten him before, just with sheer power. He would do that again. He did that again, over and over again.

It was a constant game of one-upping each other, and how was Ichigo to know  _ Aizen hadn’t finally trumped him and he was in a fucking- _

Zangetsu swore viciously as Ichigo slashed at his arm again.

Real, it was real. 

Which meant Ichigo had been sent into the past to care or kill Aizen before he went berserk. And he had just spent a whole day letting him do whatever he pleased, showing Ichigo stupid stuff and trying to make him drink something dubious and catching up to him… Was he doing the right thing?

‘ _ Ichigo…’ _

The youth ignored his sword, instead closing his eyes and picturing the young teens he had met today. Mischievous, young…

 

And suddenly he was staring at a haggard Kisuke, robe torn, face a splash of crimson after their last venture. Sending Ichigo either to the past or to his death, but it did not matter because their universe was ending anyway. And even like that, after just fleeing away from Aizen, leaving the Soul King unguarded, with Ichigo barely able to stand due to his injuries, which he still felt even after getting treatment from Orihime, even as his friends were still dead, their cause lost and their universe about to implode, the man had the guts to smile at Ichigo. A smile of apology. Even as he was surrounded by worried people, he was the only one Ichigo could focus on.

The man looked at his pupil with something like sadness, an apology on his lips, even as he smiled for him. But his eyes were unforgiving.

He was not happy about this.

And so, what his lips apologized for, his eyes declared. With his iron-like determination, he swore to him.

 

“ _ Last mission, Ichigo. Go back. Go back and take care of Aizen and you  _ will _ rest. I swear on everything that I won’t let-“ _

 

Ichigo wanted to believe that promise.

But life had fucked with him so much, so many times, he didn’t have it in him.

He felt petty but Ichigo could not believe him. Instead he would make Kisuke responsible of keeping his word.

 

(Because otherwise he would-)

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Btw I have a discord now, if anyone would want to discuss Croix or another work, or just to hang out!  
> https://discord.gg/qqyWsW6


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you so much to MistyPaws and Cap Hadrian for being my betas!

For as far as he could see, thousands of enemies littered the scene. A bizarre amalgam of Arrancars, Quincies, aberrations of life, and even some measly humans crowded in his field of sight, but he was undeterred as he sliced his way through, Zangetsu in both hands, a steady comfort.  

He was scared and confused because  _ where were his friends, where was he, where was Aizen, was he in an illusion, whatwhatwhat- _

All of a sudden, he got a bad feeling, he knows he has to turn around, but _ his body just wouldn’t listen and- _

He can feel the way the sword enters his body almost lovingly.

Ichigo’s body shook as if electrocuted, blood escaping his lips. Pain lanced through his abdomen as the blade was rammed inside him, pinning him to the ground and making all his nerve endings ignite with a flare. 

Faceless enemies surrounded him, jeering, laughing, and the voice he hated the most floated over as the young War Hero thrashed on the ground, trying to breathe through the pain.

“ _ Kurosaki Ichigo, when will you learn that you’re beneath me? _ ”

Ichigo gritted his teeth against the searing agony, the smoldering hate almost enough to center him amidst the pain and he raised unsteady hands to grasp the sword and try to wrench it  _ awayaway. _

“ _ You poor, lowly hybri _ -nigami-san!”

Eyes of black sclera shot open as Ichigo drew in a loud and desperate breath of cold air.

 

For one fraction of a second, the world seemed to hold its breath.

 

Once more, his reiatsu exploded all around him as the World Savior fought to regain his bearings, the pain in his stomach still vivid, a copper tang on his mouth and all of his enemies still screaming in his ears even as they began to flicker in his vision. He wasn’t sure where he was but there was someone crying and he needed to help them before Aizen got his hands on-

In a swirl of black cloth and metal, Ichigo was upright in a matter of seconds, blindly dashing for the little huddled figure, holding him under one arm, ignoring the throbbing in his body, and he departed. 

Behind them, a couple hollows made act of presence, curious and hungry at the display of strength but far too wary to pursue. Ichigo was blind to them—reiatsu too weak to mean danger— as he did his best to get away from Aizen’s reiatsu signal. He’d better locate their headquarters because there he’d have a window of opportunity to breathe and understand such bizarre surroundings as well as leave the kid in care of someone who didn’t frighten hollows with his mere face.

Hollow bone started forming on his lower jaw, as he stepped up his shunpo, his ears filled with noise that oddly sounded like words– he could not understand what was being said. He could only notice the sharp blade on his hands, and the extra edge– advantage– Zangetsu offered him, as they scanned for an enemy or a way out. When Ichigo realized he couldn’t pull away from Aizen’s reiatsu, he started panicking. It pervaded the air in all directions, no matter how his senses extended or how much he ran, dashing blindly. It was  _ Aizenaizenaizen _ everywhere, and he couldn’t even sense  _ one  _ of his friends and he was going to be caught if this continued on much longer. His gut twisted for one frightening moment before gold-over-black eyes recognized where he was and what exactly was going on.

The dark, quiet night seemed almost mocking in contrast with the war rampaging in his mind.

The hollow fragments vanished into dust as he tried regaining control. His pulse raced in his ears, lungs straining to supply the oxygen he was not getting. His face pulsed in ice-cold pain.

The limp weight under his arm suddenly weighed a lot more.

Boy, this was going to need some explaining.

.

* * *

First he made sure to let the unconscious kid down. Ichigo lowered both of them with an almost mechanical gesture. Then-

Ichigo was not aware of when exactly he had departed from the hollowed tree he had left the kid in, nor of when he had unsheathed Zangetsu until he jumped at a shadow and sliced open a nearby boulder. His body still felt as if he had been wrung like a damp rag, and he swore he could still feel the sword puncturing his side.

“It was just a nightmare.” He whispered, voice hoarse and raw in the cold of the night. The lonely boy was just met with more silence. “It was just a fucking nightmare.”

He looked down at the blade in his hands as it hummed at his response, and he finally acknowledged the noise buzzing in his ears to be Zangetsu’s voice.

‘ _ -just listen ta me- aibou? Finally! Thank the fuckin’ Soul King, yer back!’ _

_ ‘I’m… I’m back?’  _ Ichigo sent back, confused.

_ ‘Don’ get too hung up ovah it, just focus on mah beautiful voice as I get ya settled. Nasty dream that was huh?’ _

Ichigo did not reply for a long while, breath trapped in his lungs, worrying Zangetsu to no end, before he exhaled with a huff, a smile lifting up one deformed corner of his mouth, “yeah, sure fucking was.”

(“Also, beautiful voice my ass, don’t even try to pretend your voice is anything but awful.”)

  
  


* * *

When the child next woke up, there was no one there with him. Disconcert and pain shining in brown eyes, the feverish boy looked for Ichigo with all the success of a blind baby and then, believing himself alone, he did absolutely nothing suspicious.

Ichigo assessed all this, even as he tried calming his jittering hands that itched to draw Zangetsu to be ready for anything. His reiatsu was once again muted and untraceable, so if the kid was really just a kid he’d never find him. 

When the boy finally sat down, face downcast, blotchy red and looking ready to cry, a stupid sense of guilt entered him. What was he even doing really? Worst of all, the kid probably was hurt—given everything that happened—heck, it had taken several hours for the boy to finally stir. Even more for him to wake up. He really should go down and check on him.

He shouldn’t be such a wuss.

Distant eyes looked down when he heard someone barfing. He was supposed to be taking care of him. He was being stupid.

The boy faced away from him, exposing his singed back to the tired shinigami.

This was his fault.

Even if just to ease his guilty mind, Ichigo lowered himself to the ground, landing with as much sound as an assassin. He prepared his scowl. “Oi!” He barked, startling the sick-looking child. The kid staggered backwards, spit clinging to the side of his mouth. He hesitated briefly. “Are you okay?”

“…nigami-san? What-?” Baby-Aizen mumbled, managing to worry Ichigo when it became evident the kid could not comprehend what was going on. The little brunet’s blank eyes lowered to the ground as another tremor took over him.

He shrunk in on himself, grabbing his stomach and when he doubled to throw up again, there was a steady hand on his shoulder and on his chest.

“It’s alright, calm down.” Ichigo mumbled more to himself, feeling the little soul still,  _ still  _ trying to cope with the sudden reiatsu overload from  _ hours ago. _

(It would take Ichigo some time to realize that, on normal conditions, that amount of reiatsu being released like a bomb no less, would have obliterated common souls.)

But for now, he held the feeble boy, got him to lay down again, on his side and stood back.

Given his past success at protecting people…

Really, this should have been expected.

Maybe, he might end up failing this mission too.

Letting the boy die when he swore to protect.

Or failing to kill him when he swore to.

 

* * *

Ichigo stepped back from his handiwork and lowered the child on the makeshift bed he had prepared, his exposed back to the air. The Shinigami assessed the wound critically. On normal conditions, his unleashed reiatsu had the same effect as if he carried a gravity field, that’s what normal, high level reiatsu caused. Which, given his absurdly vast reserves, if which if let loose without restraint it could make the victim’s every cell start to twitch uncontrollably, -- the last warning before the body, human or soul dissolved into thin air.

Ichigo’s own reiatsu of course had to take things on to a whole new level. When it mixed with his hollow powers as it usually did whenever on the battlefield, his reiatsu acted like a watered down version of his getsuga tensho. Which was useful, really, just not right now.

He sat down on his haunches as he prepared the very-improvised balm and started applying it on the kid’s back. Well, he thought wryly, at least the boy should be grateful it hadn’t been both his hollow  _ and  _ his Quincy powers. Forget dead, the spirit particles would not even get to enter the reincarnation cycle.

A sliver of blood trickled down a crack in the skin distracting the man from his ever-dark thoughts. This child was so fragile, Aizen-in-diapers bled far too quickly. A couple more drops joined the rest. If only the bastard had had any blood left to spill, if it had been so easy as this then maybe Ichigo wouldn’t have had to fight such a long war, maybe he could have killed him a long time ago,  _ maybe  _ his friends wouldn’t have….

The young war veteran sighed in defeat when he noticed that he had broken skin. He slathered on some more balm before walking to the river to rinse his blood-stained hands.

Zangetsu remained silent.

 

* * *

When the kid next woke up it had been Ichigo’s fourth vigil. The man had started to worry he had gotten the kid into a coma after the first twenty-four hours; and had taken nearly seventy-two more to decide what should he do if Diapers didn’t wake up.

“…Shinigami-san?” Were the first words he uttered, searching for him as he slowly sat up, clutching at his torn clothes in pain. The tiny huddled child moved slowly, painfully, face tired and oddly lethargic still. The veteran took no notice of this, as he stepped forward, arms crossed and back straight, ready to dish some tough act.

“Kid, you’re finally awake?”

“…I feel ill.”

“Yeah, I figured you would. Hey-!” Ichigo started out cool and detached as planned, but as soon as the kid’s eyes started watering he began to panic.

“W-what? It hurts- What happened?” The boy said as if in realization, shouting in pain when a particular movement tensed his back muscles and the pain flared. He started sobbing carefully—as if doing so hurt a little less. “Sh-shinigami-san! Make it stop! Make it stop!”

Frozen, the warrior just stood there for a moment, before all thought fled his mind and he was no longer a warrior, merely a worried older brother. Long-dead instincts kicked in as he shushed the child, whispering words and rubbing his arm with the utmost care.

Finally, the kid was calm and Ichigo let out a strangled breath. Finally. “Are you better?”

“…yes.”

“Good.”

He didn’t apologize. He didn’t say he was sorry.

He wasn’t.

  
  


* * *

Ichigo felt lonely.

To be honest that was the least of his worries and he should not pay much mind to that but the nagging sense of solitude didn’t leave him.

He wasn’t a social butterfly or much less but there had never been a time where he could not trust Shinji or Kisuke or Rangiku or Neliel to have his back. He trusted them with his and his family’s lives because even when he had fallen into a trap, even when he had been stuck in  _ Hell,  _ he knew he could count on them to go after him. Or at the very least to be there for him when he managed to break himself free. If he tried hard enough, if he did his best or if he followed the trail he would find them. They existed somewhere in the world alongside with him, no matter how far or unreachable. Those words had never meant much anyway.

Now he was fully aware that he had no way of reaching them. That knowledge hurt like a bitch despite how childish it was.

Zangetsu and Shiro were with him, true. But it was not the same. They too, were stranded here with him and they too, had no idea as to how the future was faring.

He needed help.

Goddammit, but he needed help.

The image of a young Kisuke, Yoruichi and Tessai popped into his mind and it hurt so much more. 

No, they were not them, they would never be.

They had never been them, and now, if Ichigo could help it, they would never – ever– be.

  
  
  


* * *

A week had gone by since then, and it had all been sleepless nights, awkward silences and scared resentment. The kid’s back hadn’t fully healed either, his clothes were still a mess—Ichigo had offered to bring him clothes but had been rebuffed and subsequently ignored for a day. He had not tried asking if the boy wanted to see a healer.

‘ _ And yet. He has not left.’  _ Zangetsu spoke up at the end of the seventh day, sounding as haggard and tired as Ichigo felt. He didn’t have to guess his frayed nerves were wreaking havoc in his inner world.

“But well, where exactly can he go to, in that condition?”

‘ _ I do not think a mere flesh wound would impede Aizen from- ‘The _ spirit cut himself short, surprised by his own words. It was so strange. It was so strange that right now, a ‘mere flesh wound’  _ could  _ kill the guy-kid-whatever. An undercurrent of bloodlust streamed into their conversation.

Ichigo closed his eyes, feeling at home with that rush. The week-long trial was grating on all of them.

If he killed Aizen he could go home.

If he killed Aizen his friends would not die.

If he killed Aizen right now, he could go back to his friends.

Those ten years would not ever come to pass.

It would be ten years in his nightmares, not a forever in his life.

 

* * *

A figure encased in shadows appeared silently behind the little soul. With no audible noise a sword was unsheathed and raised, ready for the killing blow.

The veteran’s hand shook. His blade started shaking, sounding like the crying wind. Every single scar and wound that littered his body pulsed with pain.

Why was it so  _ hard _ ?

Why were her eyes judging him? 

Why was everyone dead, staring, judging-?

Both of his spirits materialized and hauled their wreaked master away.

 

* * *

He slept for a whole day. 

Ichigo woke up feeling much better. But not quite the same.

It was really shameful the way he was acting. Undecided-

Being indecisive was…

People had died when he was indecisive.

People would die if he was indecisive again.

So many people had died on his account actually.

For no good reason, Ichigo started piling rocks.

They stood vertically, straight and tall. Like the bearers of their name had stood once.

They littered the forest floor, so many of them. So many dead. So many.

For every soul that had stood by his side.

For everyone that had died.

Human, Arrancar, Quincy, Shinigami, everyone in between. It was almost funny how they had fought once because they were different. Death equalized everything in the end. Just like these stones were the same for everyone.

No one was better in the end.

When one died, there was not much difference.

Ichigo fell asleep again, just like a child. He fell asleep amidst a thousand marked stones. He dreamt with them. 

He somehow found strength from them.

He would do it. He would do it for them.

For everyone that had died. For everyone that had survived.

He had to endure.

He had to change things.

(And still, the improvised graveyard was lacking one more stone. The one death he still refused to accept. The one death that didn’t need a physical reminder as it haunted his every day.)

 

* * *

His thorny crown made, Ichigo returned to Aizen, conscious that he had to do his best.

He sat there, in silence, watching over the injured kid—like a dog.

He provided food.

He provided water.

He provided fire.

He said nothing as the kid ignored him.

He didn’t kick him back when the kid threw sand and sticks and stones at him.

He just sat there, unmoving, until the kid tired and laid down on the bed Ichigo had prepared again.

He stayed.

Stony featured, scary and lethal, the statue of protection.

 

* * *

“Shinigami-san.” 

Ichigo blinked, feeling his eyelids rigid as well as his limbs. He looked over at the kid who was fidgeting in place. His cracked lips remained sealed.

“Aren’t you going to eat? Aren’t you hungry?”

With the innocence of all children, the little boy forgot all about his fear, his pain, as he worried about him. Maybe he was worth saving?

“Shinigami-san. Are you alright?”

“Shinigami-san.”

Ichigo stared at blasphemous lips, moving to form the words. At revolting eyes staring innocently at him.

“Shinigami-san, are you listening to me?”

Ichigo merely blinked in reply but the kid seemed to take that as answer enough. “You haven’t eaten in days. You should be hungry.

“You haven’t moved at all. You’re not a statue of Shinigami-san, are you?” The kid asked with a hint of a smile, and somehow, it made Ichigo’s lips crack upwards. Though they were so parched, that, Zangetsu couldn’t help but comment in a dry tone,

‘ _ When we told you to bloody smile, we didn’t mean for you to take that literally.’ _

“Am not.” Ichigo finally said much to everyone’s relief. He blinked irritated eyes. “How are you doing, kid?”

Something inside him withered away at the way the kid glowed with excitement.

“I’m better!” He exclaimed with nothing of the former anger, or resentment, hands lying limply at his sides instead of hurling more rocks at him. Was this normal behavior? It had been such a long time since he had come in close contact with little kids… 

_ ‘Stop right there.’ _

‘ _ Focus on the kid.’ _

_ “That’s good to hear.”  _ He said in unison with his swords, knowing what they’d want him to say at the moment and letting himself say it.

“And how are you, Shinigami-san?”

“…Uh, yeah, let’s see your back.”

There was a minute flinch on the kid’s part that made Ichigo tense up in turn. Why had that been? Was he wary of Ichigo? Afraid he’d get hurt again? Or or… or

…Or his back had already healed.

Ichigo sobered up immediately, senses on overdrive. How,  _ how?  _ There was just no way…

“Kid…”

The boy cowered and Ichigo’s reiatsu flared briefly. 

“I thought I told you I hate liars.” He mumbled gravely, vaguely wondering why that had been the words he had uttered.

“I’m sorry…please don’t be angry…”

His back was healed.

This could only mean one thing.

How much of his reiatsu was he hiding?

“Are…are you angry?”

Ichigo forced himself to relax. Getting angry wouldn’t help him. He did the next best thing he could think of. He lied. “No, kid. It’s just that… I don’t like liars. And there’s really no reason to hide that from me, is there?”

Aizen played with his hands, but somehow seemed a little encouraged. “You… you don’t find it weird?”

Shrewd brown eyes stared at him. “Nah, has anyone told you so?”

“… Most people don’t usually like things that are different.”

‘And how would you know this?’

“I think you can agree that I’m not most people.” Ichigo said with a hint of humor he would forever be grateful he could find. He looked down at his hands. “What makes you different allowed you to heal quickly, allowed you to survive. No one can fault you for that. I’m just glad that you’re healed.”

He lifted his gaze again and was struck at the unadulterated adoration on the kid’s face. He stood there, frozen in place as the child he had almost –accidentally and not– _ almost  _ murdered –painfully, excruciatingly– started crying. Tears of relief.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you...”

Why…?

Why was he thanking him?

Why was he thanking the bastard that just a couple hours ago had been ready to execute him in cold blood, asleep, injured-?

Ichigo stared with something akin to dread. But not quite. It was more like fear. A different kind of the usual fear. The youth trapped in a never-ending war could not understand, where did this feeling stem from or what did it mean but…

Was he really the person this child was looking at? Could he be what he needed?

_ How long had he gone by, alone, detested, feared-? _

( Enough to want Ichigo at his side. Enough to settle for menacing, fool-hardy, dangerous Ichigo as company.)

Ever-strained legs bent down as Ichigo lowered himself to be eye-level with the child.

_ If  _ this was reality.

_ If  _ this was not an illusion.

_ If  _ this child here was nothing but a lonely soul…

A calloused hand was raised to rest upon dirty locks of brown. It was the first time Ichigo ever touched him, without any kind of spite.

_ If  _ this child was a child, who did not know better…

The kid flinched a little at the touch, the memories of pain far too recent for them both, but as soon as he realized what was going on, he started glowing, pushing softly against the hand as if doing that would make him closer to the  _ human contact. _

Ichigo had to try.

He owed himself at least that much.

“Shinigami-san! Shinigami-san, hear this!”

Ichigo prepared his mask and turned to face this new challenge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Sousuke, poor Ichigo...  
> What do you think, of this unlikely relarionship? Is it unhealthy? Probably.
> 
> Let me know what you think!


End file.
